Job Hunt
by ownedbyacat
Summary: KenShuu, AU. How looking for something new to do can get you what you always wanted. Shuhei, a security specialist with an unexpected sideline in law enforcement, is looking for a new job. He wasn't expecting to come face to face with Kensei, or to get involved in a murder investigation.
1. Interview

**Author's Note:** Shooting longing glances at the soapbox I was giving to his best friend, Renji, Shūhei wondered if he could have his own story. In my book, Shūhei Hisagi rarely gets enough of what he deserves, so I was extra happy to provide. Job Hunt takes place about 2 years before Prospects.

London and The Strand are real. The Victorian monstrosity housing the headquarters of Kuchiki Industries, though, is my invention. I've shoehorned it in opposite Somerset House, where I thought it would fit, but really has no place to be. Apologies all round.

Oh, and in case anyone wonders: I don't own Bleach. Never have.

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Traffic on the Strand was steady at this hour of the morning. Shūhei Hisagi drifted with the flow of pedestrians, past the Savoy Hotel and on towards Simpson's-in-the-Strand.

He remembered the morning after his and Renji's finals when they'd decided to treat themselves to _a proper_ breakfast after a night out celebrating. And how it turned into the grandest, biggest and most magnificent breakfast the two had ever seen. Or eaten. _The Ten Deadly Sins? Was that what they'd called it? _He stopped outside the ornate entrance and sneaked a peak at the menu. Yes, he'd remembered that right. Everything you ever thought of eating for breakfast and then some. And they were still serving it.

Maybe, if this job interview worked out, he'd do it again. Heaven knows he was too skinny. The trousers of his light grey suit were more than a little loose in the waist. He'd shed a lot of weight in the last nine months. His usual reaction to stress. Though trying Simpson's again without Renji might be only half the fun.

He thought of the redhead as the Victorian monstrosity that housed Kuchiki Industries came into view. Renji had his very own brand of loyalty and integrity – and Shūhei had absorbed a lot of it in the years they studied together. Somehow, he thought that Renji would approve of Shūhei's plans.

Shūhei'd never had a job, before or after university, that did not involve the government in some capacity, but the last year had shown him more and more that this wasn't his sort of life. The last case he'd been involved in, a hostage situation where loyalties and promises fell by the wayside like so many dead ducks, had made that very clear to him. He didn't fit. He wasn't content to be written off as collateral damage. And he certainly didn't want to be seen as a liability.

So, he quit.

And now here he was looking for another job to fill his day. Something to pay the bills, if someone was asking. Another crusade to fight, if he was honest.

Shūhei slid out of the stream of pedestrian traffic and stopped in front of a store display. He was desperate for caffeine, but didn't trust himself not to spill the stuff all over his suit, nervous as he was. When he checked his reflection in the glass before him, though, nothing but his perfect facade showed. Light grey suit, the jacket perfectly fitted to his wide shoulders and slim hips, a shirt the exact same eucalyptus leaf shade as his eyes, a deep green tie.

He wasn't on duty, hadn't been on duty for four months, yet his eyes automatically scanned the crowd for conflict points, the traffic for threats, the surrounding buildings for cover and hideouts.

The glass showed him his face, serene and calm, the tattoo standing out stark black against his skin. And despite this being an interview, and an important one, too, his strip leather collar caressed his neck just under the edge of the tie.

Pretending interest in the merchandise, Shūhei ran a finger over the tattoo on his cheek. An idiocy committed under the influence during his first year at uni. He'd rarely ever been sober, then, but when he came home with _that_ tattoo, Renji had finally flipped. And kicked his ass into the next week. Shūhei had tried to give back as good as he got, and they both ended the incident in the ER.

It seemed inconceivable that anyone so conspicuously marked would be good at undercover work, but Shūhei had a knack for it. Despite the outrageous tattoo, he could blend – better than most of his peers who didn't stand out to begin with. He never bothered pointing out that just having the tat was akin to wearing a sign saying _'this guy could never be a cop'_. But it was true.

Undercover work wasn't all Shūhei did, though. He was a systems specialist. An excellent one, if you went by his appraisals. A damned hacker, if you listened to unfriendly voices. And analysing and sequencing data was second nature to him. He didn't wait for loopholes, he didn't find compromised systems – he created them. If he had to.

Jobs for his skills simply were not advertised.

He'd taken time out after leaving the service. Spent a couple of weeks on a beach, three weeks in a retreat training kendo and when he returned to England, he was ready for a new challenge. With nobody but himself to answer to, he'd thrown himself into research, creating a list of large and prominent companies that were under attack from their competitors. He pulled a few all-nighters sneaking into networks – to prove how vulnerable his targets really were. Just to refine his list, of course.

And then, he'd started his real job hunt. One by one he dissected each company. Their books, their leaders, projects, cashflow, customers and morals. Until only a handful were left. Five corporations that Shūhei _wanted _to work for. Five corporations who had the mindset and the morals to attract him. And top of that list was Kuchiki Industries.

His watch buzzed a ten-minute alert and Shūhei turned from his contemplation of what he now realised were women's shoes to continue the short walk to the huge metal-banded mahogany gates that guarded Kuchiki Industries' headquarters. There was a normal-sized door besides the ostentatious entrance – for people without megalomania – and Shūhei grinned, suddenly totally at ease with the world and himself.

Two hours later, the world was still the right way up, even if Shūhei got to see it through floor-to-ceiling glass windows on the executive floor. The London Eye spun serenely before him. The Thames flowed as it had since the last ice age and if he squinted he could see taxis and limousines pull into the Savoy Hotel's famous forecourt. It didn't bother him that he did all this while very civilly answering questions. If anything, the sightseeing kept him calm. His mind ran on at least two tracks for most of the time, a habit he really didn't want to break.

The discussions had moved on to network security when the door to the office opened. Shūhei glanced at the newcomer and his world flipped upside down and stopped.

"Hisagi."

~*~ TBC ~*~

**Yet another author's note:**

The **Ten Deadly Sins **is the ultimate English breakfast as served at Simpson's-in-the-Strand, London, England. It includes: Cumberland sausage, streaky and back bacon, Stornoway black pudding, fried mushrooms, baked tomatoes, eggs (fried, poached or scrambled), liver, fried bread, bubble and squeak and baked beans and is served with toast, pastries, freshly brewed coffee or tea, a choice of cereal , porridge or half a grapefruit, and orange, apple or grapefruit juice.

You need to be seriously hungry after a job interview, training for the Tour de France or planning on not eating for the next three days to attempt this sumptuous feast.

But some things are worth it.


	2. Lunch

Whatever happened to the fluffy, romantic reunion fic I was planning? It's certainly turning out a lot harder to write than I thought. I suppose Shuuhei is simply not the fluffy romantic type. And as for Kensei... well. _  
_

Thanks for reading - I hope you enjoy!

_Disclaimer:_ Bleach or any of the characters are not mine. I just take them out to play.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Shūhei prayed that his mouth was closed. He knew he was staring and couldn't do a thing about it. But on hearing the once so familiar voice, his body remembered old times and old habits. He shot out of his seat, back straight, hands by his sides.

"Captain Muguruma, sir!"

It confused him that his body acted without his mind giving directions, but the confusion fled when Kensei laughed. It was that deep laugh. The one that could turn an ambush into a training exercise. The one that sent shivers down Hisagi's spine and still haunted his dreams.

"Stand down, Hisagi. We're both on Civvy Street, aren't we?"

"Yes, sir." Shūhei's brain refused to cooperate. He simply could not assimilate the facts before him. If this was a test, if Kensei wanted to see how Shūhei reacted under sudden extreme stress ... then he'd just failed spectacularly.

"Are you about done, Frazer?" Kensei asked and turned to Shūhei when the man nodded. "I'd like to discuss a few other issues with you," he said blandly. "Would you care for lunch?"

Shūhei couldn't have answered coherently had he tried. So he merely shook hands with the network security specialist, who had spent the last hour interviewing him, and followed Kensei from the room and into the nearest lift.

Physically, his former CO hadn't changed much. Kensei was still the looming presence Shūhei remembered. His hair was a little longer, now, and tried to stand up in spikes to rival Shūhei's. It didn't really suit Kensei Muguruma's rough and tough image, but Shūhei found it adorable. And Kensei in a suit... well, that was downright hot.

"You've made a right name for yourself, brat," Kensei rumbled when they stepped out of the lift and headed for the exit and out onto the Strand. "But did you have to become a bloody spook? I had to pull in favours to find you, only to learn that you'd just quit the service and disappeared again."

"You were looking for me?" Shūhei couldn't wrap his head around that.

"For almost a year, I'll have you know," Kensei growled. He led them through the ornate entrance that Shūhei had stopped alongside earlier and into the wood-panelled dining rooms of Simpsons.

Shūhei followed in silence. The world around him felt like a beautiful island paradise littered with land mines, a pleasant dream that could turn into a nightmare at any moment. It urged him to caution, to move carefully, listen rather than speak.

They settled on the far side of the dining room in a quiet, out-of-the-way booth and Shūhei's brain unscrambled enough so that he could ask a question. "Do you come here a lot?"

"Often enough for the staff to know that I want peace and privacy when I do."

Shūhei smirked and met Kensei's eyes for the first time since the man's surprise appearance at his interview. It wasn't the smartest move in the book. The amber eyes burned with an intensity that snared Shūhei's mind and took his breath away. And that was before Kensei smiled.

It was a real, genuine smile. Far removed from Kensei's everyday grin. It curved the full lips into a tempting bow, crinkled the corners of Kensei's eyes into a spider web of mirth, and lightened the amber eyes to molten gold. Shūhei drowned in the expression, painfully aware of how much he had missed seeing that smile.

"What are you drinking?"

Kensei's amused tone drew Shūhei from his abstraction. He blinked rapidly, noted the waiter by his side – _where did he spring from? And how long has he been standing there? _– and registered Kensei's words.

"Just water, thanks," Shūhei said quietly. What he really wanted was a bottle of whisky, but that would have to wait until he made it home. For now, he had to pull himself together. Act like the professional he was.

"When did you leave the service?" he asked, pleased when his voice came out level.

"Eighteen months ago," Kensei replied, raising his G&T in a brief salute before taking a sip.

"Why?" The question slipped out before Shūhei could censor and he fought down a blush. He wanted to know, but... "Sorry. Bad form to quiz the boss – I remember." His brain stuttered over the old, familiar phrase. He hadn't heard or used it in too many years, yet here it was. Out of the mouth of babes and idiots...

"Shūhei."

Kensei's tone, commanding and hesitant all at once, made him lift his head. The mobile mouth wasn't curved in a smile this time and Kensei's gaze was unforgiving. _What did I say?_

The food arrived right then, distracting both men. And Shūhei was content to let the issue drop. He didn't doubt that Kensei would revisit this if it really bothered him. Leaving things unfinished had never been Kensei's way.

He concentrated on his lunch – the devilled kidneys served with his Barnsley chop were just the way he liked them, with a nice kick at the end – and wondered if Kensei's habit of neatly tying lose ends was the reason for his being here.

"Have you really been looking for me?"

"Yes," Kensei confirmed around a mouthful of roast beef.

"Why?" This time, Shūhei didn't flinch when he asked. This wasn't quizzing the boss. This was... _rampant curiosity._

"At first, I just wanted to catch up," Kensei mused. "But when I joined Kuchiki Industries, I thought you might like working here." He pinned Shūhei with a direct amber stare. "And I wasn't wrong, was I?"

"No." Shūhei kept the disappointment off his face and his answer to a single syllable. After all, he _had_ approached Kuchiki Industries about a job, so he couldn't very well argue with Kensei's assessment. "Is that the problem?" he asked instead. "You no longer think so now that you've seen my CV and watched the interview?"

"What do you mean?"

Shūhei raised an eyebrow. "If you're trying to tell me that there isn't a camera in that monstrous gilt frame behind the group of armchairs..."

_... you can save your breath._

"I'm not," Kensei interrupted brusquely. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd stop second-guessing my thoughts. If you've half the brain everyone says you do, you must remember that I really hate being told what I'm thinking." He set his knife down with a little too much force and clenched his fingers around the almost empty crystal tumbler. "I thought I'd beaten that out of you years ago," he added under his breath.

Shūhei couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his face. This was vintage Kensei. From the bite in the tone right down to the hand reaching for a convenient missile. Not that the crystal tumbler would come screaming at his head any time soon, but the reminder was... nice.

Another little piece of history verified, shifted from the realms of wishful thinking into the box marked 'real and true'.

Shūhei relaxed and leaned into the cushioned backrest of his seat. "Tell me what it is, then," he demanded with something close to his usual aplomb. "Why did you gatecrash the interview? If you think I fit so well, why not leave bureaucracy to run its course?"

"Because I haven't seen you in years," Kensei replied, voice harsh. "Because you walked out without giving a single good reason. Because you've been avoiding all of us ever since." He drew a deep breath and calmed himself with an effort. "Because I wanted to see if you'd avoid me if I stood right there."

Shūhei felt the dull flush spread over his face and neck and didn't try to suppress it. He'd known that Kensei would see his actions as a kind of desertion, but hearing the pain in the man's voice as he recounted it hurt Shūhei on a level he didn't think he could hurt anymore.

"I had a reason," he told the tabletop.

"I never disputed that. I just wish you'd trusted me enough to explain it to me." Like Shūhei had done earlier, Kensei leaned back from the table and tried to relax. "Tell me one thing," he said softly. "Was it PTSD?"

Shūhei drew a deep breath, grateful that Kensei didn't pry. And grateful that this was a question he could answer. He looked up, straight into intent amber eyes. "No."

Kensei nodded and his shoulders relaxed a fraction. "Fine," he growled, before he pointed a finger at Shūhei's face. "Now, what's with that tat?"

"Don't ask," Shūhei groaned and tried to hide his face. Of course, it didn't work too well. Short of draping a napkin over his head or stripping off his jacket, there was little cover to be had while facing Kensei across a dinner table. "It was an idiocy committed on the back of too much whisky, okay?"

"Should have known," Kensei snorted. "How could you be a spook looking like that?"

"It's a gift."

"No doubt. Do you use makeup?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Shūhei had, in fact, been trained to change his appearance using both cosmetic and theatrical makeup, but Kensei didn't need to know that. Or what Shūhei looked like while hunting pimps through nightclubs.

Still, the banter cleared the air and both men carefully stayed away from serious topics while they finished their meal and drank their coffee. Only when the grand entrance of Simpson's closed behind them and they joined the throng of pedestrians on the Strand, did Kensei return to their earlier conversation.

"I want you to come and work for me." Kensei's voice was low and serious. "We're more than busy. There's plenty of competition and the fight gets dirty at times. Provided you're careful, you wouldn't have to stick to one side of the law only." Kensei ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Listen to me. I sound like a used car salesman."

He did, in an endearing way, but Shūhei was too tense to laugh at the image. "Kensei, I... I'll think about it."

"Yes, you do. Think. Usually too much." Kensei waved a hand in the air, an odd aura of defeat surrounding him. "Go and think. But watch that you don't think yourself out of something you really want."

* * *

**Author's Note for the Eternally Curious: **a Barnsley Chop, also called a double-sided or butterfly chop, is a lamb chop taken from right across the loin. At Simpson's-in-the-Strand it is served with devilled kidneys, a famous English brunch dish, that's supremely tasty and very easy to make. You can find the recipe on the Essentially England website. (A live link is in my profile)


	3. Bait

**Author's Note: **I was going to take the coward's way out at this point, skip the angst and move straight to the fun bit. But Shuhei wouldn't be Shuhei without a bit of excess rumination, so I'm trying my hand and hope it doesn't turn out too slushy. Slush and Shuhei just don't go. Not in my book, anyway.

Thanks to everyone who made the effort to review. I'm very grateful for all your comments and encouragement.

**A couple of references: **The Met, or Metropolitan Police, is London's police force. (Think LAPD or NYCPD). Moonlighting is a term used for describing a second (unofficial) job. For example, an insurance salesman who loves woodwork could moonlight as a carpenter in his spare time.

Disclaimer: Kubo Tite owns Bleach. I just borrow my favourite characters.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Shūhei didn't talk to dead people. Not when sober, not when drunk – not ever. He wasn't usually plagued by nightmares, either.

He was grateful for that small mercy at least.

The ghosts that haunted Shūhei Hisagi were all amongst the living. And no nightmare could match the tortures his mind could inflict upon itself.

Right now, he was good and drunk as Renji would say. Not quite sozzled enough to shut his brain up, but close. He knew that was as good as it was going to get. Any more whisky and he'd be throwing up his guts for the next six hours – a prospect that just didn't appeal. Not even for the sake of nothing but white noise between his ears.

Shūhei knew that he had to make a decision. And he had to make it now, before the alcohol-induced fog thinned and his mind went down six tracks at once.

He stood by his bedroom window and looked out over his sleeping neighbourhood. At this time of night, the streets were empty and seemed peaceful. Shūhei knew better. He had seen the living nightmares that hid in dark corners come out and prey on the unsuspecting when the sun went down. He had run from them as a kid, dodged them as a teen and now he fought them with all his strength.

His army unit and Kensei had been the first safe place Shūhei had known in his life – ironic, really, given what they did for a living. Walking away had been torture. It had derailed Shūhei like nothing before or since and he knew that without Renji, he would not have survived cutting himself loose from his only family.

It had taken him long enough to settle, to find a measure of equilibrium and he was proud of his hard-won peace. He wasn't happy. But he hadn't expected to be happy. Shūhei kept busy and he was useful – and that was good.

Shūhei stepped back from the window and closed the blinds. Then he fell onto his bed, decision made.

* * *

The ringing phone brought Shūhei awake. The light filtering around the blinds was a soft, pearly grey – too bright for Shūhei's migraine-grade headache. _Too much thought and not enough water,_ his subconscious mind supplied and memories of the previous night returned. They explained the headache and queasy stomach, explained why he sprawled across his bed fully clothed...didn't explain why he had woken.

The phone. Right.

He rolled across the bed, wincing at the hammer blows inside his head, and snatched the phone from the bedside table.

"Hisagi."

"Good morning, Mr Hisagi," said a voice that was far too chipper and grated against the insides of Shūhei's head. "This is Retsu Unohana, calling from Kuchiki Industries. We would like to offer you a position with our corporate security team. Would you be able to come to the Strand office this morning to discuss your contract?"

Shūhei stared into the dimness of his bedroom, noting his keys on the dresser under the mirror where he'd tossed them on coming home. The empty bottle of whisky lay on the carpet beside his shoes. His suit jacket and tie hung on the wardrobe door.

"Mr. Hisagi?"

Shūhei roused himself a little. Answers. Decisions. A job he would love. Home.

"Sorry, Ms. Unohana," he said slowly into the handset. "I am very grateful that you think me a suitable candidate. Unfortunately, I have to decline your offer. I will not be able to work for Kuchiki Industries. Thank you for your time."

He disconnected the call before he changed his mind and dropped the phone to the bedspread. He knew he should get out of his suit, find some aspirin and a bottle of water, but he continued to sit motionless, staring at nothing until the early autumn sun burned off the morning mist and shone bright and clear.

* * *

It was close to eight in the evening and traffic was dying down as Kensei Muguruma slid his Range Rover into a convenient parking space close to Shūhei's home. He turned off the engine and sat in silence for a time. Was he an idiot for going after the brat like this?

He had been disappointed but not surprised when Shūhei turned down the offer of a position with Kuchiki Industries' CorpSec team. Shūhei could argue himself out of a lottery win, given enough incentive, so rationalising why he didn't want to work with Kensei again wouldn't be a hard task for the brat.

It was Retsu's comment that Shūhei sounded as if suffering from a mountainous hangover that made Kensei wonder if there was still a chance to change the younger man's mind. _Even a professional fa__çade will only hide so much misery,_ Retsu had told him when she commented on Shūhei's refusal.

And Kensei couldn't bear the thought of Shūhei being miserable. For whatever reason.

Resolutely, Kensei got out of the car. A moment later, he stood outside Shūhei's front door and rang the bell.

"For fuck's sake don't you own a watch?" he heard Shūhei's voice from inside the house. "You said I had two hours and that wasn't nearly enough time. I'm not a miracle worker!" The door opened and the rant stopped as Shūhei saw who was standing on his doorstep. "Kensei?" His voice sounded uncertain. "Are you moonlighting for the Met?"

"Holy Mother of...!" Kensei knew he was staring, but he couldn't help himself. Shūhei looked all of fourteen and was dressed like... Words failed him and even swearing would only get him so far in this situation. So he stared. At what had to be one of the hottest sights he'd ever seen.

Shūhei Hisagi was a mirage of long lines and sharp angles. From his long legs, that looked even longer in sinfully tight black leather trousers and knee-high boots, to the high collar on his soft green leather shirt that turned his long slim neck into a pillar of seduction. His arms and shoulders were bare, showing off perfectly tanned skin and muscled biceps, and the waistband of the trousers sat so low, the tips of the younger man's hipbones peeked out. And the ridges of his toned abs.

But what stunned Kensei the most was Shūhei's face. Never had the younger man looked so achingly vulnerable. Or so innocent. His skin was almost translucent; the cheekbones sharp and defined and not even a hint of shadow darkened his jaw. And Kensei could have sworn that Shūhei had used more than liner and mascara to turn his eyes into pools of the deepest green, ready to snare and trap anyone foolish enough to look too long.

"Maybe you'd better come in and I explain," Shūhei said softly and stepped away from the door.

When Kensei entered the lounge, he found Shūhei standing in the middle of the room surrounded by duffle bags. Two of the large bags held clothes, a third one smelled strongly of leather and the fourth one – a little smaller – qualified for its own defence budget. At first glance, it seemed to hold a specimen of almost every edged and pointed weapon ever invented.

Kensei looked up just as Shūhei opened his mouth to speak. "If you're going to say that it isn't what I think it is I will hit you."

Shūhei closed his mouth, then his eyes and took a deep breath.

The sight warmed Kensei's heart. Whatever else had happened over the years, Shūhei's tried and trusted remedy for keeping his temper on a leash hadn't changed. And it looked just as adorable as it always had. More so, perhaps, given Shūhei's so very enticing getup.

"Are _you_ moonlighting for the Met?" Kensei asked softly, and more for confirmation. The quantity of weapons in the room almost made it a foregone conclusion.

"I just help out now and then," Shūhei said, eyes open and levelled on Kensei.

"By playing bait."

"I'm good at it."

"I can see that." Actually, Kensei didn't just _see_ how tasty a bait Shūhei was. The moment the younger man had opened the door Kensei's blood had caught alight. Even though right now, Shūhei was still... very much Shūhei. Irritated, busy and a bit distracted. Kensei didn't want to imagine how devastating Shūhei would be when he slipped into his role. He was convinced his jeans wouldn't survive the strain.

He needed a distraction, but asking if this sideline was the reason for Shūhei refusing the job at Kuchiki Industries was clearly a bad idea. The younger man was vibrating with tension and it wasn't in Kensei's nature to push when it wouldn't get him anywhere.

"Is it legit?"

Shūhei's lips quirked up at the corners. "They can't take exception to what they don't know..."

"And you're not telling – I remember. Whom are you baiting, anyway?"

Before Shūhei could answer, the doorbell rang. "It's open," he yelled in the direction of the hallway and a moment later, a lanky blond walked through the door. He was dressed in dark blue slacks and a button-down shirt of light blue silk and carried a leather jacket over one arm.

"We're on the clock," the blond said before Shūhei could greet him.

"You might be on the clock," Shūhei shot back, rummaging in the smallest duffle bag. "I've told you before that I need three hours. Not two. Not one. Three. If you have a problem with that..."

The blond ignored Shūhei's diatribe. "You can't take any weapons. They're checking."

Shūhei sat back on his heels and stared at the blond. "You have got to be kidding me," he said.

"I'm not. The new guy – we haven't a make – he's paranoid. No patrons through the door without a search. Not even the kids."

"Call it off," Shūhei ordered, and his voice didn't waver.

"Shūhei, we can't," the blond's bravado evaporated until he sounded desperate. "He's the only lead we have."

Shūhei shook his head and Kensei was proud of the younger man. The blond pushed all the right buttons, making Kensei wonder how well he really knew Shūhei, but his brat didn't give in.

"I will not set one foot in that fucking place without a weapon! Not after the lousy intel you gave me last time," Shūhei said. "Can you call for backup?"

"We don't have enough to get a warrant," the blond said very quietly.

"Then I go armed or we call it off. There are only two choices."

"Three," Kensei said and grinned widely when two startled faces turned his way. It was comical to see Shūhei recall his presence with a snap, while the blond stared at him with clear suspicion in his eyes. "There are three choices."

"What's the third?" the blond asked, but Kensei kept his eyes on Shūhei, not wanting to miss his reaction.

"What if I tag along and watch your back, brat?"


	4. Hard Facts

**Author's Note:** This chapter turned out incredibly hard to write. It didn't matter whose POV I tried, the thing just wouldn't cooperate. This is v6 and Kensei being protective. It's not great, but at least it gets us to all the wonderful action in the next chapter. Please bear with me.

I'm ever so grateful to everyone who took the time to comment. Your support is responsible for me not putting this on ice until I get this chapter just perfect, but concentrate on Shuhei and Kensei's story instead. Thank you very much!

Oh and BTW: **Kojak** is a 1970s US TV cop show. The lead, Lieutenant Theo Kojak, played by Telly Savalas, is fond of lollipops.

And in case you haven't figured it out yet: I don't own the boys. Just this story.

* * *

**Hard Facts**

_"What if I tag along and watch your back, brat?"_

"You'd do that?"

Shūhei's wide-eyed look was a balm for Kensei's doubts. Whatever his issues, Shūhei wasn't shying away from the idea of working with Kensei. Rather the opposite, if the gratitude in the eucalyptus eyes was anything to go by.

"Fill me in and I'll keep you out of trouble," he said, expecting a typical Shūhei briefing: where, what and how in six sentences at most. Instead, he found a lanky blond planted in front of him, hands on hips and glaring.

"You can't be armed, either."

"I heard you the first time." He kept his face blank and his temper even, and got a co-conspirator's smile from Shūhei as his reward. Just a tiny tilt of lip, but it acknowledged a truth neither needed to voice.

"Kira, relax," Shūhei counselled. "By the way, this is Kensei Muguruma. Kensei, Lieutenant Izuru Kira from the Met. Why don't you get acquainted while I finish getting ready?"

"Skin trade?" Kensei asked as Shūhei turned and disappeared into his bedroom. Given the way Shūhei was dressed, it was the most likely option. Kira nodded as they shook hands and Kensei wanted to ask how well the blond lieutenant knew Shūhei, but he pushed the thought aside. "Do you do this a lot?" he asked instead.

"Not really. I was a liaison on one of Shūhei's cases when he was...," Kira hesitated and Kensei just waved for him to continue. He already had chapter and verse of Shūhei's official activities. "We kept on working... together... afterwards, I mean."

"What he means to say is that we both want to get the rats off the street, so we keep sweeping," Shūhei said, coming back into the room to grab yet another bag. The tattoo on his cheek now looked like a clumsily applied sticker, making the younger man look even more adorable.

"Don't mix your metaphors. You need a piper to catch rats."

"Not if they're dead rats." Shūhei paused on his way back to the bedroom to watch the blond lieutenant check his watch for the umpteenth time. "Kira, stop fidgeting."

"I don't want to miss him."

"Then go ahead and set up. We'll catch up with you."

Kira hesitated for just a moment. Then he nodded and turned towards the door. "Don't be too long," he admonished before he went out.

"Or all the ice cream will be gone," Shūhei grumbled and turned to Kensei. His smile held an apology. "You don't have to do this, sir."

"I know." Kensei hesitated, but then forged ahead. "I saw your face when you told your friend to call it off."

"It was the right decision, but...," Shūhei broke off, started over. "I would have hated it. This fucker takes the youngest and most vulnerable kids and... And Kira has nothing to..."

"What's your objective tonight?" Kensei's tone was calm, combating Shūhei's rising agitation. It worked, just as it always had in the past.

"ID. Photos, fingerprints... any evidence." Wide eucalyptus eyes locked with Kensei's. "And you still don't have to do this."

"Oh, I don't know – a spot of violence sounds rather appealing." He pulled out his scariest grin and laughed when Shūhei rolled his eyes. "Tell me this is not why you quit your job."

"This is not why I quit my job," Shūhei shot back promptly. "It's not always like this," he said and waved for Kensei to follow him. Kensei crossed the room and leaned against the bedroom door, while Shūhei fixed his hair. "Most of the time I don't even leave the house."

Shūhei's voice was matter-of-fact and Kensei thought this over. Shūhei used to be hell on a keyboard back when they still served together. Even without the data he offered to support his application to Kuchiki Industries, it was clear that the brunet now played in a different league.

"I hope you're taking precautions," he said in a gruff voice, feeling like a parent giving _the talk_ to their wayward offspring.

To his credit, Shūhei didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Kira's the one who wants to put perverts behind bars," Shūhei said. "I just want to stop them. I don't care how we do it, but I do not plant or manufacture evidence. Ever." He threw Kensei a look over his shoulder. "Just so we're clear, sir."

"So what do you do?"

Shūhei reached for a small bottle and uncapped it. He tipped his head back and dripped a clear liquid into each eye. When he turned to look at Kensei, his pupils were blown so wide and dark that Kensei had to swallow. Hard.

"Belladonna," Shūhei commented and dropped the bottle onto the dresser. He slung a leather belt around his slim hips and cinched it. "I don't much care about a few dirty pictures here or there," he said, picking up a stiff black leather strap next and wrapping it around his bicep. "The bastards who are buying, though... that's a different matter. So I make it easy for Kira and chums to find what they're looking for. And if they're told not to look..."

"I see." And Kensei did see. He saw more than just evidence of Shūhei's crusade. He saw the younger man's passion and the quiet fury that made his movements quick and sharp. His resolve and determination were evident in the multitude of supplies and guises, in the careful preparation, and in the way he turned himself into a weapon that would never be recognised or suspected as such.

"So I'll be a pimp?"

"No," the reply came swiftly. "No competition. I'll draw his attention, you collect the evidence."

"What if someone propositions you?" Kensei would never know where Shūhei found that smile, but it was a valiant effort. It was even almost a smile.

"I'll deal. Or we get out."

"I vote we get out." _Can't have bloodshed. It'll blow your cover. And I don't think the Kuchiki would be pleased._ "You have anything for a diversion?"

"Lollipops," Shūhei pushed past Kensei and pointed to a blue cloth roll that lay open on the coffee table.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Kensei complained. "Do you have to make me look like Kojak?"

"Who?"

"Never mind, brat. Be grateful you're not old enough." He picked up a couple of the cellophane wrapped sweets and pushed them into his pocket. "What does our target look like?"

"Pale blue eyes and light blond hair in a bob."

"Sounds like Shinji."

"Yeah... right." Shūhei rolled his eyes. "Shinji will go after every woman with the right... er, assets, but he would never lay a finger on a kid."

"True. Are we ready?"

"What do you think?"

Shūhei sashayed towards him like a model on a catwalk and Kensei struggled for air just watching the brat. "I'll better not tell you what I'm thinking," he managed through half-clenched teeth. "But you do look damned hot."

"Let's hope the pimp thinks so," Shūhei said and hesitated in the hallway. "Where did you park?"

"A little way up the road. Why?"

Shūhei grabbed a coat and slung it around his shoulders. "Don't want to get you arrested."

Kensei imagined himself being hauled before a magistrate for soliciting a minor. And Byakuya Kuchiki's reaction when he found out. "You have a dirty mind, brat," he groaned as they got into the Ranger.

"Sure," Shūhei agreed. "But I was the one who thought about bringing the coat."

* * *

Shūhei kept his eyes closed during the drive, but he was far from relaxed. Kensei kept shooting glances in the younger man's direction as he drove, noting the tight fists, the frown and the shoulders that almost touched Shūhei's ears.

"You ok?"

A sweep of long lashes, a half-turn of a head and Shūhei's eucalyptus gaze locked with Kensei's. "Belladonna's making me queasy."

"Then why do you use that shit?"

"Gets the look. Stop here."

"Hm," Kensei grunted, pulling the car alongside the curb when he saw Kira's Vauxhall parked up ahead. "So, you're going into this tense and feeling queasy. Any other important details you want to share?"

"Watch what you drink," Shūhei said, getting out of the car and shedding his coat. "Stick to bottled if you can."

"What about you?"

Shūhei flashed a quick grin. "I'm broke. And clumsy."

"As long as you're careful."

"I'm always careful." Shūhei managed a brief smile and waved a hand to Kira. Then he turned, took a couple of deep breaths and started to walk down the street towards his destination as if he had no thought in his head beyond a good night out.

Kensei watched him go and he was sure that the brat's queasiness, whether it was due to nerves or belladonna, would make no difference to the outcome of the evening. Shūhei would get the job done, whatever he needed to do.

This, in Kensei's estimation, still didn't make it right. He watched until Shūhei had rounded the corner and was out of sight. Then he crossed the square to the waiting Kira and climbed into the car.

"Are you two friends?" he asked as soon as he'd closed the door.

"Yes."

"Then why do you do this to him?" The snarl in his voice was obvious, but Kensei had no interest in hiding it. "You're sending him into that club alone and without backup... since when's that in the playbook?"

"You said you'll back him up." The blond lieutenant sounded confused, which only served to push Kensei's ire up a notch.

"I _will_ back him up. The point is that I just happened to be with Shūhei when you showed up. And you were pushing him into going alone and unarmed."

"Shūhei can handle himself."

"Again, not the point," Kensei was growling. "If you ask someone to risk their life, the least you do is provide backup. Don't they teach that anymore or do you just not care?"

Kensei watched the blond carefully and the confusion on the man's face sent icy shivers down his spine. Who was this guy that he could ignore basic security protocol without batting an eyelash? That he was prepared to risk a friend's life for a crusade. All of a sudden, Kensei Muguruma was afraid. Not for himself, but for a courageous brunet with a crusade of his own. He couldn't bear the thought of Shūhei being manipulated into risking his life for a cause. Even if that cause was just.

"If there was another way to get this done...," Kira hesitated over his words. "I don't often ask for Shūhei's help. I know it's dangerous and I only seek him out when he's the only option left."

The careful words did nothing to ease Kensei's disquiet and he resolved to keep an eye on Shūhei's interaction with the blond detective, whether the brat decided to join Kuchiki Industries or not. But that was for tomorrow. Right now, getting Shūhei's back was more important.

"Lieutenant, I don't know you. And Hisagi seems to trust you," Kensei said, calmer now. "So I will give you the benefit of the doubt. I will not assume that you risk a friend's life for brownie points. Or worse, a personal vendetta. But if I ever find out that you do..." _I'll nail your damned ass to the fence. _He let the words sink in for a few seconds, then turned on his scary grin. "Now. Did you bring an evidence kit?"

"Yes, what do you need?" It seemed that Lieutenant Kira was more comfortable with practical matters than questions of ethics. Kensei didn't find that at all amusing.

"A couple of bags and tape."

Kira numbered the items and handed them over. Kensei stowed the supplies in the inside pockets of his jacket and nodded his thanks. "Make sure there are a few units in the area, just in case this goes south. You never know, you might have your perp behind bars sooner than you thought."

Kensei reached for the door handle when Kira stopped him with a question.

"What's Shūhei to you, Mr. Muguruma?"

The answer came easy to Kensei. "Family. Shūhei Hisagi is family."


	5. Offers

**Author's Note: ** Hello all! It's the weekend and I come bearing the next installment, wherein the boys engage in a bit of nifty teamwork. To everyone who read, reviewed and followed the story - I thank you kindly. And I hope you enjoy this, too.

Only one small warning: run-of-the-mill lollipops will not take out fire alarms. So don't try, ok?

As usual: Bleach isn't mine. You knew that.

* * *

**Offers**

Snatches of music spilled across the street along with red and blue flashing lights as Shūhei drew close to the club. A queue of people lined the pavement before the entrance, over which two towering figures stood guard. They were the harmless ones.

Two slighter men beside the bouncers controlled the entrance to the club. One by one, they pushed waiting patrons against the wall and patted them down before allowing them inside.

_At least Kira's intel is good, _Shūhei thought as he slowed and approached the end of the queue. _He's here. And as paranoid as reported._ Arriving obviously armed would have ended the night early. Not that Shūhei ever went _unarmed_, of course. Anywhere. But that wasn't a fact he advertised.

Next in the queue was a woman in a leather miniskirt and knee-high boots. She giggled as she was told to lean on the wall. Hands roamed and the giggle turned into an indignant squeak when one slipped under the skirt.

"Watch your hands, mate!" The woman spun away from the wall and glowered.

"If you want in, you follow the rules," the man retorted and Shūhei wasn't the only one who heard the unspoken _bitch_ at the end of the sentence. A couple in front of him slipped out of the queue and turned back down the street, muttering about _better places for a fun night out._

Shūhei couldn't agree more, but he wasn't here for fun. He watched carefully as the men checked everything but the age of club goers. He estimated that a good quarter of the kids in the queue were not old enough to drink, but the bouncers turned not even one of them away.

When it was his turn, Shūhei leaned against the wall, hands beside his head. He flinched when the bouncer ran his hands up Shūhei's legs and along his ass, but kept his eyes open and tried to relax his shoulders. The bastard was doing more than checking for weapons, but right now Shūhei could do little about it.

Footsteps and laughter sounded from down the road and Shūhei threw a quick look over his shoulder to distract himself. Of the three approaching men, two were strangers, but they laughed and joked with Kensei as if they'd known one another for ages. The tight coil of tension between Shūhei's shoulder blades unravelled a notch or two. Kensei'd always had a knack for meshing with crowds and some things, like the sun and the moon and Kensei just never changed.

It warmed Shūhei that his former CO hadn't been thrown by his disguise. It warmed him even more that Kensei hadn't tried to talk him out of the job. Kensei Muguruma might call him by the nickname he had given a snot-nosed seventeen-year-old, but he trusted Shūhei's instincts and decisions enough to back him up without question. That unconditional support meant a lot.

A sharp swat on his ass drew Shūhei from his thoughts. Without looking at the bouncer – he had the face memorised already – Shūhei stepped away from the wall and entered the club, stopping for a moment just inside the doors to get his bearings.

The place was dark, which was a blessing given Shūhei's light-sensitive eyes, but quite a bit larger than the outside suggested. Shūhei thought that it might once have been a workshop or a small warehouse. Most of the internal walls had been removed, leaving a wide rectangular space with a row of floor-to-ceiling brick columns dividing two narrower aisles from the main part of the room. Raw red bricks formed the walls and scuffed, heavy-duty vinyl covered the floor and the lower half of the columns. Racks of spotlights made a grid-pattern overhead and a bar ran along the far side of the room, the chrome top reflecting the light. Tables and benches took up the aisle to Shūhei's left. The dance floor occupied the centre. Emergency exit doors were to his right, between the kitchen entrance and DJ booth.

Shūhei turned left and walked down the line of columns, intent to confirm the layout of the place while he could still move unimpeded. The club was just starting to get busy. About half the tables were taken and a few couples busied themselves on the dance floor while the DJ warmed up.

On the far left-hand side of the room, next to the bar, Shūhei marked a second emergency exit. And another door which, given the fact that it was guarded, could be an escape route or a way to private rooms deeper in the building. With the pimp's paranoia and Kira's information that the man liked to sample the merchandise before he put it on display, either option was feasible.

The guard didn't look as if he was just there for decoration and even though Shūhei would have liked to take a closer look to confirm where the door led, he kept moving, vaguely heading for the bar. He felt the man's eyes on his back and resisted the urge to check his weapons. There was no need. The knife, wires, CS gas and smoke were exactly where he'd stowed them before leaving home. Besides, it was just a nervous habit he'd picked up in Afghanistan after Kensei got shot. And he was too stubborn to do anything about it.

Stopping now and then to check out other clubbers, Shūhei finally drew level with the bar, glad to see Kensei already in residence. He held a bottle of Stella in one hand and juggled a scrunched-up coloured cellophane wrapper with the other while he watched the dancers.

With their emergency out taken care of and their target not yet in sight Shūhei relaxed a fraction and settled into his role. Leaning on the far end of the bar, he ordered bottled water and surreptitiously popped a couple of pills. They were painkillers, to help with the headache caused by the flashings lights aggravating his belladonna-enhanced eyes, but people commonly saw what they wanted to see and Shūhei didn't mind the strange looks he attracted. It all helped him blend.

He hit the dance floor a few minutes later, doing his best to ignore the knowledge that Kensei Muguruma was watching him. Thoughts like that would get him precisely nowhere. Much better for all concerned if he concentrated on the kids swaying and bopping around him. Some were there for the music and a good time, some – wide-eyed and hesitant – clearly on a dare.

Two teenage boys, huddling at the far end of the bar, caught Shūhei's eye. Dark-circled eyes darted nervously around the room and both had their skinny arms hidden in long sleeves despite the heat in the room. And when Kensei, alerted by a couple of signs and a look from Shūhei, brushed close past the two on his way to the men's room, both flinched and shrank back further into their corner.

Likely candidates, indeed. Scared as all get out and probably hooked, too. But at least the two had the sense to stick together. Another body close by to combat loneliness, a voice to chase away the nightmares... Shūhei knew how little comfort this was when life got ugly, but it was better than no comfort at all. The fine line between giving in and keeping going, between a sliver of hope and total despair.

Shūhei wanted to hit something... somebody, but he kept his face calm and his body moving to the music. He pushed the memories down, put the rage back in its box and buried it under layers of purpose and discipline. He thought he'd masked his fury well enough, but when he looked up, there was open concern on Kensei's face, a question in the man's eyes.

_Out?_ Kensei's fingers queried and Shūhei could see that he meant it. The thought steadied him and he moved his head in a negative, grateful that their target chose that moment to make his entrance. He needed the distraction.

The pimp was neither very tall, nor very broad and had no discernible fashion sense. Despite the black leather trousers and vest he wore, there was really only one word to describe him: colourless. He looked washed out with pale skin, pale hair and pale eyes. But he had a grin that promised nightmares.

The man swaggered in, arm around the shoulders of another teenage boy. This one had brown hair that flopped loosely around his head, and brown eyes that seemed too big for his thin face. He walked docilely enough beside the pimp, but his eyes looked anywhere but at the man and when the arm around his shoulder tightened, he turned his head away.

The small signs of defiance heartened Shūhei and as the music got louder and the beat picked up, he decided that now was as good a time as any to make his play for the pimp. The man had settled on a bar stool close to Kensei and was idly scanning the crowd while nursing a beer.

Shūhei moved from the dance floor to one of the columns in the man's line of sight. He leaned against it, one knee bent so the sole of his boot rested on the black vinyl and the tight leather trousers showed off his long legs and the line of his ass. He draped himself against the column as if lost to the music and whatever else he enjoyed for recreation, head back, throat bared, eyes closed and dark spikes of hair falling every which way. The hem of his shirt rode up another inch to show off his abs and a spotlight hit the tattoo on his face, making it stand out stark black against his skin.

The pose was an invitation and Shūhei knew exactly how he looked and what he offered. He'd practised the move before a mirror again and again, and if he tilted his head just right, he could usually watch his target lose their cool.

The pimp was better than most. He leaned forward, interest clear in the way he moved. But he didn't get up. And he didn't take his eyes off Shūhei. Instead, he waved to one of his men and pointed. And Shūhei dropped his lashes and waited.

"Hey, you!"

Shūhei ignored the rough voice in his ear until the man prodded him. Then he lifted his head – slowly, as if it weighed a ton – and opened his eyes. "Yeah?" he slurred.

"The boss wants to talk to you."

"Huh?" Closing his eyes completely hadn't been a good idea. The sudden influx of light started painful fireworks in Shūhei's head until his eyes adjusted. But it helped with his image.

"There's a man at the bar who wants to talk to you," the rough voice repeated, barely patient. "You better move your ass. He doesn't like waiting."

Shūhei pushed himself upright and stepped away from the column with a small provocative sway to his hips. The pale-haired pimp was a little to his left, Kensei right in front of him. Both men were leaning forward on their barstools and both wore almost identical looks of eager interest.

Shūhei might have found that gratifying, or embarrassing, or even faintly amusing, had not Kensei reached back towards the bar right then and snatched a beer bottle from the counter. The bottle disappeared into the inside of Kensei's jacket before anyone had noticed the man had even moved – and Shūhei felt a strange stab of disappointment followed by irritation.

Kensei was on a job. That meant blending with the crowd and acting like those around him did. And if Shūhei had known how distracting it would be to have Kensei watch his back, he would have chosen to call this off. Or declined Kensei's offer. Maybe.

He drew close to the pimp, swayed a bit on his feet and wasn't surprised when the hand reaching out to steady him landed on his hip and slid over his ass. From the corner of his eye, he saw Kensei jerk and bare his teeth before the mission face slid back into place.

Shūhei put his arms behind his back and kept his eyes down. This was the hardest part of his act. Submission didn't come easy to him and he was far too old to be bashful. He felt hungry eyes trawl over his skin, assessing, imagining, plotting... and he wanted to look up and memorise the faces of the men surrounding him. Just in case he ever found one of them alone.

"Look at me."

Shūhei raised his head with seeming reluctance and focussed his gaze on the bar behind the pimp, watching the man from the corner of his eye. The pale hair was stringy and curled damply around the man's neck. The black leather vest was stained dark in places. Blood? Sweat? But right in Shūhei's line of sight, the man's grin lifted a cheek.

"I have work for someone like you," the pimp stated baldly. "What do you say?"

Shūhei swivelled his head as if he'd just woken in a strange place and looked around. "Here?"

"Here, or any other club I send you to. We also run an escort service." He chuckled. "I can see clients go crazy over you. Especially when you're bragging." He let his eyes trail from the tattoo on Shūhei's face down to his boots and back up again. Then he threw his arm around shoulders of the brown-haired boy beside him – ignoring the obvious way the boy flinched – and pulled him close. "Hey, Rikichi, why don't you give Bambi the tour? Explain how things work. Do it right and I let you have the rest of the night off."

He pushed the teen in Shūhei's direction and Shūhei had to fight not to reach out and steady the kid, pull him away from the blond. It was a close-run thing, but he managed it, instead just tilting his head in invitation. The youngster pointed towards a quieter corner of the club and Shūhei nodded and fell into step beside him.

"You're Rikichi?"

"And you're Bambi?"

The kid's soft voice barely made it over the music, but the sarcasm was obvious. Shūhei pulled out a real smile. "Hardly. I'm Shuu."

Rikichi stopped next to a bench and waved for Shūhei to sit. They were still in the pimp's line of sight – and Kensei's – so Shūhei straddled the bench. Just in case the perv read lips. If he had instructed Rikichi to stay within sight, he was clearly paranoid enough.

Shūhei had thought that a bath, sleep and a few square meals would do wonders for perking up the kid's looks, but the longer he watched the teen, the more unease he felt. Rikichi's face wasn't just pale. He was grey. His skin shone with a thin sheen of sweat, even though now and then, he shivered.

"You hurting?"

"None of your business." The reply was swift and decisive and Shūhei backed off immediately.

"Worked for the guy long?"

"Some."

"Worth it?"

"Hell, no!"

The emphatic reply was so unexpected, Shūhei recoiled, remembering at the last moment to mask his response and lean against the wall to hide it. And the kid wasn't even done yet.

"Why would you even consider working for a bastard like that?"

"I need the money."

"There are better ways to earn money."

"If I have to get groped at work, I might as well get paid for it."

Rikichi shook his head and mumbled something under his breath that looked suspiciously like _idiot_. When he looked up, his gaze held a large dose of pity. He leaned forward, turned his head so his mouth was close to Shūhei's jaw and waved a finger at Shūhei's tattoo. "You know what's funny about this picture?"

"No?"

"You seem to have the notion that you'll get off somewhere in all this." Rikichi shook his head once. "You couldn't be more wrong. Oh sure, he'll work you till you're raw. And there are always customers willing to pay extra. But if you know what's good for you, you won't dare take any money... or pleasure."

"I just want to save up enough," Shūhei said, sticking to his role despite his growing concern. Rikichi's shivers were getting worse and the teen's colour ebbed and flowed in a way that wasn't normal. He reached forward and placed an arm around the young man. Only to feel Rikichi flinch as soon as the soft touch landed on his back.

"You _are_ hurt."

"And you are beyond stupid. Listen, if you don't believe shit, believe me. You don't want to get into this. This is the gate to hell and once you're through it, nobody will help you get back out."

All of a sudden, Shūhei was grateful for Kensei's presence only a few meters away. He met the white-haired man's gaze for an instant. His fingers flicked through signs for _witness_ and _out, _before he returned his gaze to the boy opposite him.

"What if I... could?" Shūhei's voice was a breath against Rikichi's cheek.

"Get me out of here?" Nobody could say that the kid was slow. "I _thought _you were sober all along." He leaned his head on Shūhei's shoulder and Shūhei could feel the tension in the slim body. "What'll I have to pay you for that?"

Shūhei didn't flinch at the suspicion in the low tone. Just. He blipped a brief look in Kensei's direction, knowing the white-haired man would understand. And be ready if the whole thing went south. "I'm here to take him down. So I take any help I can get. But it's not a trade. You want out. I'll get you out."

"Why?"

"Been there. Got out. Returning the favour." Shūhei didn't care that he was blunt. Soft soap wouldn't do Rikichi any good. He'd been lied to often enough and he was smart enough to recognise lies when he heard them. So what if Shūhei's words opened old wounds? They'd healed before. They'd heal again.

Far more important was the teen slumped against him, all ragged breathing and clammy skin. Rikichi was hurt and the devil of it was that Shūhei couldn't tell how badly. He guessed that Rikichi had been beaten or flogged, since every touch to his back made him flinch, but even a hard beating would not cause the shivers, shallow breath and clammy skin. The kid was showing signs of shock... and that wasn't good. Not at all.

He raised his eyes and found Kensei leering at the two of them. The look didn't suit Kensei, but it got him what he wanted. In no time at all Shūhei saw him talking to the pimp. Negotiating, if Kensei's sudden studied disinterest was any indication. It was an obvious tactic, but for some reason Kensei could always pull it off.

Relief washed through Shūhei when the pimp leaned back against the bar and waved at Kensei to proceed. He didn't feel guilty about pulling out so early. They had the man's fingerprints. Knowing Kensei, they probably had pictures. They even had a witness. But Rikichi needed a hospital. Fast.

And Kensei didn't hesitate. He rose and took the few steps across the room to where Shūhei and the brown-haired kid sat huddled together. "Hey boys, what would you say to a little playtime?"

Rikichi pressed himself closer to Shūhei as Kensei's shadow loomed over them both and Shūhei soothed him with a quiet sound. Then he raised his head and met Kensei's gaze. His nod was little more than a sweep of lashes, but its effect was instant.

Black smoke. Wailing alarms. And chaos.


	6. The Bill

**Author's Note: **

Apologies for the delay, but RL's not been kind these last few weeks and my fiction mind absconded for a time, even though I knew where the story was going. To everyone who read, reviewed and followed the story - I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I never considered that reviews have a way of making me want to keep going, but I now find that they do. And that's a good feeling. Thank you!

BTW, the _The Bill_, while of course referring to a written reckoning of money owed, is also an English slang term for the police. There was a TV show of that title in the 60s.

As usual: This story is mine. Bleach isn't. You knew that.

* * *

**The Bill**

The black smoke was a nice touch. It billowed from behind the kitchen door and wafted around the DJ booth, adding menace and authenticity to the alarms wailing through the club. Kensei mentally saluted whoever had crafted Shūhei's _distractions_. Dorky look aside, once operational the things were damned effective.

A cacophony of sound – a mix of thrumming beat, panicked shouts and wailing alarms – turned the dance club into an inferno. Clubbers milled without aim in the gloom of flashing strobes, others rushed towards exits losing their way and their reason in the billowing black smoke and growing panic.

Kensei blocked Shūhei and the brown-haired teen from the pimp's view and he felt his shoulder blades itch as if a large target was painted across his back. As soon as they moved, their masquerade would be over and it irked Kensei that he couldn't predict the blond's reaction to having his assets abstracted. He felt beyond stupid for making the attempt without knowing if and how the blond and his men were armed, but then, his plans for the evening had not included night clubs, pimps or impromptu rescue missions. He'd just wanted to convince Shūhei to take the offered job.

Instead, his brat had revealed a side that Kensei couldn't have cooked up in his most fevered dream. It wasn't the crusade that had surprised him – Shūhei and crusades had always had an affinity – but the unexpectedly enticing way Shūhei went about it, using himself as bait and weapon both. Not to mention the fact that Shūhei put himself in harm's way without a moment's thought even when his allies let him down.

The memory lit a spark of anger and Kensei pushed it aside. He couldn't afford anger right now. It was too dangerous a distraction. Shūhei was keeping to his role despite the growing pandemonium around them, holding his body as if he was conversing with Kensei, while waiting for his cue and comforting the boy by his side. This close, Kensei could see the brown-haired youngster's waning colour and the shivers that wracked his body as well as Shūhei's concerned frown. He kept his impatience on a leash despite the need to hurry, kept his stance casual and a sharp eye on the main entrance. Once the bouncers roughly established a little order and cleared a path in the wall of panicked patrons blocking the double door he caught Shūhei's gaze.

"Go."

Shūhei moved like a striking snake. He shot forward, grabbed Rikichi around the middle and slung him over his shoulder, holding him in place with an arm across the back of the kid's knees. His other hand pulled a small canister of gas from the sole of his boot. And then he was up and sprinting towards the doors, dodging through the milling throng.

Kensei was right behind him. And while part of him kept an eye on the crowd and potential threats, another part of him observed Shūhei's work, the way he used to do when Shūhei was one of his. And his brat did him proud. Kensei liked that Shūhei soothed the boy's startled shout with a brief comment. That he didn't look over his shoulder to check on the man he needed to avoid. That he did not confirm that Kensei was with him. Shūhei stayed focussed on his task. He wove through the surging crowd, aiming straight for the small gap of clear air the bouncers had created, trusting Kensei to keep him safe.

Kensei had a knife up against his wrist when they reached the bouncers at the door. One of the two owed him for laying hands on his brat and Kensei was determined to collect. Given the chaos around them, it wouldn't even be tricky.

Shouts sounded behind Kensei, growing louder as if someone had finally noticed that this was more than a panicked escape. The tone changed from surprised to determined to demanding. One of the bouncers straightened, just as Shūhei drew level with him.

"What the fuck you think you-"

Kensei's fist landed with a wet thud. The man's head smacked into the wall behind him. And Shūhei was clear and sprinting up the street, the boy still slung over his shoulder. Kensei took a moment to watch, but barely anyone took notice of the two. The sounds of sirens coming closer rent the air, attracting clubbers and spectators, the way disasters often do. They milled aimlessly, faces and clothes bleached of colour in the light of the street lamps, only intent on the scene before them.

The second bouncer loomed, fist moving back to strike as Kensei turned. He reached out to grab the flying fist and yanked. The man went sailing into the crowd of spectators. Kensei didn't wait around to see him land. He was past the bouncer nursing a headache and back in the club in a heartbeat.

Strobe lights still flashed around the dance floor, guiding his steps through the smoke. The crowd had thinned considerably and Kensei made it to the bar without incident. Of course, the blond was gone. But the blond wasn't Kensei's target.

He found the two boys Shūhei had pointed out to him earlier still huddled in their corner on the far side of the bar. How they could ignore the wailing alarms eluded Kensei – nobody could be _that_ oblivious, surely! He watched for a few moments, seeing nothing but misery in the way the two clung to each other. Misery – and a hefty dose of fear.

He approached the two boys, opened his mouth to speak... and had to move fast to restrain them as both jumped up and tried to run.

"Hey!" He snapped as the blond tried to bite his hand. "Stop that you two! I'm here to get you out."

Two pairs of startled, deeply suspicious eyes met his gaze. "You were buying. You talked to Rikichi and the new guy."

Not as oblivious as he'd thought. Was that what Shūhei had seen? Why he had pointed the two out? Kensei heaved a frustrated sigh, wishing once more that there had been time to prep this impromptu mission properly. As it was, Shūhei clearly knew what he was doing while Kensei only wished he did.

"I was _pretending_ to buy," Kensei disagreed, voice as calm as he could make it. "The new guy's my friend. He works with the Met. He got Rikichi out. I came back for you two."

"Why?"

A good question. Shame that Kensei was lost for an answer. He'd come back because he thought the boys needed help. Because they reminded him too much of Shūhei in his disguise. Because they clung to each other with so much despair that something deep inside him burned. Because ever since... then... Kensei rescued people that needed it. But as he looked at the two boys before him, he realised that none of his reasons mattered. That none of his answers mattered.

"Don't you _want_ to get out?"

The two looked at each other and that's when he saw it: crippling fear, confusion, mistrust... and a tiny spark of hope. Shūhei would probably hit him if he found out, but Kensei flashed his biggest grin and leaned closer.

"I can knock you both out and carry you," he offered. "It will look good, I promise."

"Where?"

"Across the square. Shūhei's there with Rikichi and the police."

They clearly didn't like the idea of the police, but after a moment, Kensei got a tiny nod. "You can really carry us both?"

Without another word, Kensei grabbed both boys across the waist and hoisted them to his shoulders, much as Shūhei had done with Rikichi earlier. "Don't worry about falling. I've got you. Pretend to be unconscious," he said as he adjusted the slight weights. "Just let your hands hang down."

He felt two bodies relax against him and nodded. "That's it."

Two long strides took him to the kitchen door, four more through the empty room. He pushed the back door open with a foot and scrutinised the small delivery area beside the club. It was empty, though a couple of fresh oil stains on the concrete suggested that a car had parked there earlier. Kensei let the door swing open and closed a couple of time. Then he eased outside and started to run to the mouth of the alley.

More spectators had accumulate outside the club, intent on watching black smoke billow out the doors and drooling over the fire fighters who got ready to enter the building. Kensei and his two charges were soundly ignored. He skirted the back of the largest group of spectators, turned the corner and ran towards Kira's car.

"Inside, quick!" he instructed as he sat the boys down and opened the back door.

They balked, eyes wide with fear. "You lied. This isn't a police car!"

Swallowing a few choice phrases, Kensei bodily stopped the boys from running and opened the passenger door.

"Lieutenant Kira! Your badge, please."

And he praised creation that the blond lieutenant didn't need an explanation. He held his warrant card out to the two boys, who examined it closely before finally getting into the unmarked car.

"Keep your heads down, and nobody will know where you are," Kensei said, taking the front seat.

Kira watched the boys watch him replace his warrant card in the inside of his jacket. "I'll stay with you until our protection team gets here," he said in a much calmer voice than Kensei could muster even on a good day. "Is that ok?"

"Where is Rikichi?"

That's what Kensei wanted to know, too. He'd been craning his head in every direction looking for Shūhei and the brown-haired youngster he'd rescued. There were quite a few official looking cars in the small square now, and the same number of unmarked ones. Maybe Kira had pulled in a few favours.

"Did Shūhei go with the ambulance?"

Kira turned a confused gaze his way. "I haven't seen Shūhei yet."

"But-" Kensei bit off what he meant to say and shoved the door open. "Call for an ambulance," he instructed urgently. "Rikichi is injured. Possibly in shock."

And then he was out of the car and running up the street.

* * *

"Set me down!"

As a weak fist pounded on his back to enforce the demand, Shūhei ducked into a covered driveway and carefully lifted Rikichi from his shoulder. The boy swayed, clutching at the wall for support.

"Sorry about that," Shūhei steadied the teen, careful to avoid touching his injured back. "It would have taken too long to explain what I wanted you to do."

"But you carried me!"

"So?" He flashed a smile at the incredulous youngster. "You weigh less than the packs I carry while training."

"You train carrying things?"

"I train running, too." Another shiver wracked Rikichi's slim frame and Shūhei frowned. "You need a hospital. Come on."

Rikichi stretched out a hand to hold him back. The fingers shook. "Can we just... stop a moment?" he asked timidly. "I haven't been outside in weeks. I'm not allowed. I just want to... Please?"

The sudden pause was painful. Shūhei couldn't catch his breath or scramble enough brain cells to find a suitable answer. All he could do was stare at the boy. And Rikichi ducked his head and flinched away from him, expecting reprisals.

"Sure. There's a garden the next street over. We can sit on a bench there while we wait for the doctor." Shūhei tried to keep his voice calm, though his insides were boiling with fury at the thought of what had been done to the kid and there was a fist-sized lump in his throat. There would be time for fury later. For now, he closed his eyes and drew a deep calming breath, then another. And if his vision was still a bit blurry when he opened his eyes, he blamed it on the belladonna.

He recalled Kira's near desperation when Shūhei suggested they call off the job and wondered if this was the reason. But why was the blond lieutenant keeping secrets? It wasn't as if Shūhei was reluctant to help when asked. And if Kira had shared what he knew...

Sirens wailed, close by now, and Shūhei wanted to scoop Rikichi up and drag him into the nearest ambulance, but he just... couldn't. Not after hearing that Rikichi'd been a virtual prisoner. "Do you want to walk the last bit or do you want me to carry you again?"

"I thought you were a little too good to be true."

"You clearly know jack shit about it," Shūhei turned and stepped in front of Rikichi. A man stood in the mouth of the driveway. One of the pimp's men, but not the one who had searched him for weapons. "I could be waiting for a client." Shūhei folded his arms across his chest, fingers of his right hand slipping under the leather strap he wore around his left bicep. "Or maybe I wanted a bit of playtime of my own."

"And maybe you're full of shit. Hand the brat over and _maybe_ I'll leave you in one piece."

Shūhei didn't waste breath on an answer. Bullies never listened, anyway. They were too drunk on the rubbish they spouted. And this one was as drunk on perceived power as he could get. The question was could he back it up? He was about Shūhei's height, but broader and heavier. All that swagger could be an act.

Shūhei watched the man's feet, noted the weight on the heels and launched himself forward. He saw an arm come up in defence, grabbed the wrist and spun. A crack followed by a groan and a slew of curses. A quick chop to the neck. A thud. And silence. Shūhei bent and placed two fingers under the man's jaw, satisfied when he found a pulse. Killing the bastard would have been too easy a fate. Not to mention messy for him and generally frowned upon.

The boot hit his ribs and knocked him sideways. He curled, hit tarmac with a grunt and rolled, breath leaving his body in a rush. _That's what you get for your Samaritan attitude_, his subconscious mind supplied helpfully. Pain lanced through him as he recovered his footing, but all that paled and was pushed aside when-

"No!"

Like a small blur, Rikichi appeared right in front of Shūhei, too quick for the larger man to react. Shūhei saw the knife an instant later; saw the move in slow motion, a straight stab aimed at his gut. Rikichi cried out and fell to his knees, knife embedded in his shoulder and blood running down his arm. Shūhei reached and missed. And Rikichi pitched forward to lie motionless in a puddle of blood.

"You bastard!"

Shūhei forgot where he was. He forgot that police and S.W.A.T. and god-knows who else was just a few hundred yards away. He even forgot that he was armed. All he remembered was Rikichi's face, the shape of the man who'd stabbed him, endless hours training hand-to-hand combat. And rage. He turned into a blur of kicks and punches, of flying fists and feet, intent on inflicting as much pain and damage as possible. He could have knocked the man unconscious numerous times, but he was careful. His kicks and punches were precise. They raised bruises and welts. They broke bones and split skin. But they never allowed oblivion.

"That's enough!"

Strong arms wrapped around Shūhei's torso, clamping his arms to his sides. He squirmed and kicked until he registered Kensei's familiar scent and his body reacted to Kensei's warmth. Shūhei's struggling slowed, but he wasn't done.

"Let me go! He killed the kid."

"Did not."

?

Shūhei twisted, saw Rikichi on his knees on the pavement, leaning awkwardly against the wall, and tore himself from Kensei's grasp. Three steps took him to Rikichi's side. The shivering teen was even paler now and held a hand to the wound in his shoulder. Even under the light of the streetlamps, the fresh blood showed in vivid contrast against the kid's pale skin.

"Let me see," Shūhei said gently and moved Rikichi's hand. The knife had pierced the upper part of Rikichi's shoulder. The gash wasn't long, but seemed deep and was still bleeding. "Gods, you're a mess," Shūhei sighed, his habitual calm slowly returning. "Has nobody ever taught you not to run in on a fight?"

The brave attempt at a smile on Rikichi's grey face made Shūhei's insides churn with dread, made him lean and place a gentle kiss on the boy's forehead. "Thank you for saving my life." He rose and held out a hand. "Let's get you patched up before you pass out."

Rikichi's hand was ice-cold, the skin clammy. Once upright, he swayed like a blade of grass in a hurricane. But when Kensei reached to pick up the boy, Shūhei's hand stopped him. With the injuries to his back, carrying Rikichi bridal-style was out. The shoulder wound was still bleeding. And Rikichi clearly needed to walk.

They settled for Shūhei keeping pressure on the bleeding shoulder and supporting one side, while Kensei took most of Rikichi's weight on the other. They made it to the corner of the square before Rikichi lost consciousness.

The dash to the waiting ambulance took a bare moment.

"Fresh stab wound to the shoulder," Shūhei said hurriedly as he climbed into the ambulance and placed Richiki's still form on the waiting gurney. "But he was already hurt. Wouldn't let me touch his back. Weak pulse, clammy skin. But he was lucid all the time."

The two paramedics set to work, while Shūhei hesitated in the door until Kensei pulled him from the vehicle to make room.

"Give the guys some room. They'll let us know when there's news." Kensei steered him to where Kira was waiting beside his car, bottle of water and pack of wet wipes in hand.

"Here," Kira said as he handed the bottle over. "Do you want an aspirin for the headache?"

Shūhei accepted, even though the innocent comment painted a deep scowl across Kensei's face. He swallowed the pills and quickly drained the water bottle, surprised at how dehydrated he felt. Without needing a prompt, Kira produced a second bottle of water and set it on the car's roof in easy reach. Kira watched him while he cleaned the blood from his hands and arms, a patient, undemanding presence, and Shūhei began to unwind. This was familiar.

"Why didn't you tell me he kept his boys locked up?" Shūhei asked when the violence of the evening had been reduced to raw knuckles and a pile of blood and dirt stained cleaning wipes.

"Because I wasn't sure."

"But you had an idea?"

"I had rumours. And you know what they teach us about those." Kira looked towards the ambulance. "This boy you brought out... is he one of them?"

"Yes. Enough pluck for several of his size. Goes by Rikichi." Shūhei finished the second bottle of water and tossed the container into the back seat of Kira's car. "Sorry about the messy exit. I suppose he got away?"

Kira nodded. "By the time the teams showed up he was gone."

"Well," Shūhei had no idea why he felt the need to apologise. Kira knew as well as he did that there was a price to pay for working outside the rules. "We have finger prints. We may have DNA. And we have a witness." He leaned his back against the car, mimicking Kira's stance. "And talking of witnesses, there were two other boys at the club tonight," Shūhei said softly. "One blond, one dark. They looked likely."

To Shūhei's surprise, Kira nodded. "Daniel and Dominic. Your Kensei snatched them on the way out. Isane's just picked them up and taken them to a safe house."

Shūhei opened his mouth to reply when the back of the ambulance opened and one of the paramedics climbed out. He came across the buzzing square and stopped beside them.

"I'm sorry... the kid didn't make it."

Shūhei had known what the man would say before he said it, but that didn't make hearing it any easier. He barely noticed Kensei draping a blanket around him, and not withdrawing his arm from Shūhei's shoulders when he was done. All he could see were deep brown eyes. Old eyes that had seen far too much.

"It wasn't the knife," the paramedic said, his face a grimace of distaste. "There's internal bleeding, open lash marks. He was beaten and..."

"...raped," Shūhei finished very quietly when the man couldn't go on.

"Yes. The knife wound just sent him deeply into shock. He had no fight left in him."

Shūhei straightened his spine with a snap. "That's where you're wrong," he said. "That boy didn't know who or what I was. He knew what would happen to him if he didn't do as told. And he tried to save me... and others like him. He had courage."

"'s not what I was saying. That boy's body had no strength left. Not after so much abuse. He was probably starved, too."

"Leave no witnesses," Kira said softly.

"Oh, I wouldn't say _that_." A calm voice spoke from behind them. "Good evening, gentlemen."

Shūhei had never met the dark-haired woman who stepped between them. She was slight and casually dressed with her long hair in a messy braid, but her teal-coloured eyes were sharp behind her glasses and her voice held a determination that Shūhei could identify with.

"Dr. Yadomaru?" Kira sounded stunned and Shūhei was surprised to see the deep blush that rose to the blond's ears and hairline. "You are working this case?"

"Apparently so. Want to fill me in?" She nodded towards the ambulance and waited until Kira and the paramedic were on their way before she looked at Shūhei. "Rikichi may no longer be able to use his voice to testify against the men who hurt him, but he _will_ make sure they're buried under the jail. I promise."

She rose on her toes and pecked Kensei on the cheek. "Good to see you, Captain."

"You, too." Kensei smiled a tiny smile. "Thanks for coming out so quickly. There's too much red tape in this mess."

The woman shrugged. "Not to worry. I've got myself assigned to the investigation and you know how I just love red tape for breakfast. I will need the two of you for statements, but I'll call when I'm ready for that. Best go home before the press gets here." She didn't wait for a reply from either man, just spun on her heels and followed Kira and the paramedic.

Kensei watched her leave, then tightened his arm around Shūhei. "Come on, brat. I'm taking you home."


	7. Glimpses

**Author's Note: ** And I'm back, bearing the next installment of Shuuhei and Kensei's tale, hoping that some of you are still with me on this ride. Fighting's over for the moment. Shuuhei needs a break and, of course, Kensei's happy to help out.

I still don't own the boys (shame that!). Just this crazy tale. But I do hope you enjoy this little peaceful interlude.

* * *

**Part 7: Glimpses**

_"Come on, brat. I'm taking you home."_

Shūhei turned obediently at the pressure of Kensei's arm. He walked the few steps to the parked car and slid into the passenger seat, glad that nothing more was demanded of him for a time. He knew that this was far from over, knew that there would be questions and reconstructions and – maybe – repercussions, but all that could wait until tomorrow. Right now, he needed a quiet space to draw breath and reflect. And he was grateful that Kensei understood that without having to be told.

The car purred to life. Kensei waited until Shūhei was settled in his seat, turned the heating up and the seat heaters on and peeled away from the curb. The cacophony of flashing lights vanished behind them, lingering black smoke drifted away and soon the familiar sights and sounds of London by night soothed Shūhei's jagged nerves. The ever-present traffic had thinned. Taxis cruised almost unimpeded and every now and again Kensei's Range Rover slipped past a brightly lit Night Bus taking clubbers home the long way. Pedestrian traffic fizzled out the further they moved from the West End and Shūhei noted with surprise that it was half past the Witching hour.

No wonder he was beat. Since Kira's call earlier that evening events had raced to overtake each other. Usually, he knew in advance when Kira needed help, had time to prepare and plan his involvement. This time, Kira's call had come out of the blue and only Shūhei's experience playing bait and their history of working together had made Kira's plan at all possible.

And then Kensei had turned up. Just as out of the blue as Kira's call.

Shūhei's former CO hadn't featured in Shūhei's life in years – much as he would have wished otherwise. The man's sudden appearance at his interview had played enough havoc with Shūhei's thoughts that – like a coward – he'd declined a job he actually wanted. He should have known that Kensei would see through his flimsy excuse and not let the matter go. The man was like a Rottweiler with a whorl of Cumberland sausage when he wanted something, so Kensei turning up on his doorstep should have been a foregone conclusion.

What hadn't been a foregone conclusion, though, was the way Kensei had backed Shūhei. The way he'd challenged Kira. The way he'd ditched what he'd come for and joined in Shūhei's hunt.

Shūhei wrapped fingers in his spiky hair and yanked until his eyes watered. By all rights, he should be amazed at the effortless fluency with which he and Kensei worked together after all these years. But he wasn't amazed. He wasn't even comforted. Instead, he was downright irritated. He'd worked so hard to stand on his own feet after he left the service that interacting with Kensei as if they'd never been apart upset his equilibrium.

As did the fact that Kensei had watched him screw up.

Again.

In hindsight, Shūhei didn't feel proud for losing his temper mid-op, though he was honest enough to admit that it had felt damn good to let rip. He might have gone one better if it'd been the guard with the wandering hands. But maybe then, the repercussions for his actions would be impossible to avoid.

"Thanks for going after the two boys," Shūhei said, voice gruff. "At least one of us didn't screw up."

"I couldn't let you mash that idiot into the road, you know," Kensei replied conversationally, as if he'd spent the last ten minutes listening to Shūhei's thoughts rather than the car's engine.

"'spose not," Shūhei mumbled, turning his face to hide his sudden flush. "I bet you'd have done the same had you been in my shoes."

"Sure. But I was in a hurry, so the other bouncer got off with a broken jaw and a sore head."

Shūhei's head snapped around and he gaped while his mind played catch-up. Instead of the expected reprimand Kensei offered... acceptance?

"That kid really got to you, didn't he?"

Kensei's voice was soft and laced with a hefty dose of concern. It loosened the tight knot in Shūhei's chest and sent a wave of warmth through him. Kensei didn't just understand his need for violence; he also understood Shūhei's need to analyse the events to see what he'd missed. Shūhei leaned against the headrest and exhaled slowly.

"I should have rushed him to the ambulance."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because he asked to walk."

"You could have ignored that."

"After what he'd been through?"

"Right. So how did you screw up if you did exactly what Rikichi needed?"

"Because he needed an ambulance more!" Shūhei couldn't keep the frustration from his voice. He remembered similar discussions – Kensei providing the voice of reason until Shūhei's mind accepted what was – and marvelled at how well he was known. The thought scared him... and comforted like a warm blanket or the smell of baking bread.

"You can't know that," Kensei replied calmly, and Shūhei finally believed him, clung to his words as if they were a lifeline. "All _you_ know is that Rikichi asked you to let him walk. You could have ignored what he wanted – just like everyone else – and he still might have died. You based your decision on Rikichi's choices and needs – and that's _not_ wrong. It's human and humane."

Silence reigned in the car for a time. Shūhei watched streetlights twinkle on dark water while they crossed the river. He counted the seconds between oncoming cars, then switched to counting cars parked illegally on the pavement and calculated an accumulating total of parking fines. His breathing slowed and deepened and the pain in the back of his head eased to a mere memory.

"Now let it go and tell me something else," Kensei ordered in the calm, deep tones that never needed to be loud to carry.

"What do you want to know?"

"Why this particular crusade?"

Shūhei thought about that, wondering how to phrase his answer. The words he'd said to Rikichi came back to him and he spoke them out loud before he could filter. "Been there. Got out. Returning the favour."

"I thought it might be something like that," Kensei said after another long silence and Shūhei frowned. He'd never told the whole story to anyone. A few people knew snatches, Renji probably knew more than most, but he usually kept the details well under wraps. The sudden urge to confide in Kensei made him squirm in his seat and he clamped his teeth together.

"I wish I could kill whoever did this to you."

"Too late," Shūhei said, voice very soft. "My mother's been dead for years."

Time froze, traffic lights winked and Kensei was staring. Shūhei thought of castles, of walls and battlements and moats, and the idea of anything being able to shock Kensei into immobility lightened his mood with a tint of amusement.

"Green, Kensei," he said, just as the car behind them suggested that they should do more than block the middle of the road.

"She sold me to her pimp one day, when she needed a fix," Shūhei continued his story once they were underway again. "I disagreed with the idea, so I left." It hadn't been that simple. It had never been that simple. But Shūhei felt too comfortable there in the dark, with the car's warmth and Kensei's scent surrounding him, to step back into that cold and scary place.

"How old were you?"

"...'leven, I think."

Even over the sound of the engine, Shūhei heard Kensei snarl and grind his teeth, but the other man kept his thoughts to himself. Still, the fury expressed on his behalf warmed Shūhei's mind and drew him another step closer to letting the events of the night slide away.

"I had nothing to do with her death," he added as Kensei pulled the Ranger into a parking space across the road from his house, feeling that it might be beneficial to clarify that fact. Especially after his outburst earlier.

"Didn't think you had," Kensei commented good-naturedly as he turned the engine off and got out of the car.

Shūhei followed suit, but it confused him when Kensei then blipped the locks and started to move towards Shūhei's home. "Kensei?"

"You think I'm leaving you without making sure you're ok? Think again." Kensei stopped in the middle of the road, waiting until Shūhei joined him. The frown on his face was impressive, but nothing Shūhei hadn't seen before.

"Mother-henning doesn't suit you, Kensei," Shūhei said, exasperated. "I'm fine."

"You're not _fine_," Kensei shot back and reached for the brunet, peering closely at Shūhei's face. "Look at yourself: you're shaking with excess adrenaline. You may have a broken rib needing taping. And when was the last time you ate something?"

That question caught Shūhei out. He actually had to think about it. "Lunch, with you," he said finally, the defiance in his tone dying a swift death.

"Jesus!" Kensei shook his head and gripped Shūhei's elbow a little firmer. "I'm sure it helps you pull off that look, but I'd rather you didn't starve yourself to death just for the sake of catching pimps."

"It's not that," Shūhei disagreed. "Stress makes me sick." He flushed crimson admitting as much and Kensei snorted.

"I really should have remembered that."

"Yeah... because you force-feeding me on that Welsh exercise worked so well."

"It got you home."

"I would have got home anyway."

"Says you," Kensei said and handed Shūhei his front door key. When and how Kensei had taken possession of it, Shūhei had no idea. And that told him a lot.

"Fine. Have it your way," he submitted, not looking up, and reached to unlock the door

* * *

Besting Shūhei's quick mind in an argument was not easy, so Kensei was grateful when the brat stopped fighting. At the very least, it got them off the street and inside the house. Shūhei was racked by almost continuous shivers and it had worried Kensei that the brat barely seemed to notice. Though now that he knew that Shūhei had consumed nothing but whisky, water and chemicals since Wednesday lunchtime when it was now early Friday morning, Kensei wasn't too surprised.

Kensei slipped out of his shoes and watched as Shūhei sank down on the large, solid oak blanket box that took up the space below the mirror. The brunet yanked on his boots to remove them, but the leather was stiff and the angle was awkward. Kensei took pity when Shūhei started swearing. He reached over and pulled on the heel until he held Shūhei's right boot in his hand.

"That Kira's idea of going armed?" He pointed to the stitched pocket in the inside of the boot and Shūhei nodded.

"Can't hide a gun very well the way I'm dressed," he said, an adorable blush spreading across his cheekbones. "So the boots are my armoury." He pulled off the other one and turned it around so the back faced Kensei. "Stiletto," he said as he ran his thumb up the broad leather strip at the back of the boot. "Gas and smoke in the heels. Another knife in each sole."

"No range weapons?" Kensei was pleased his voice came out level. The sight of Shūhei in bare feet and clingy leather pants scrambled his thought processes most effectively.

"As if." Shūhei's fingers trailed from the cuff on his wrist up his arm to the leather strap he wore around his bicep. "You taught me better than that."

"I damn well hope so, brat," Kensei growled and set the boot down. "Go and shower. I'll fix you some food."

Shūhei flushed bright red in less than a heartbeat. "You don't have to do that!"

"I know." Kensei rose, took Shūhei's shoulders in a firm grip and turned the man around until he faced the sitting room door. "Shower. Now."

And Shūhei went, with only a half-hearted complaint mumbled under his breath. A moment later, Kensei heard the sound rushing water and hastily retreated towards the kitchen. Bare feet and leather were quite enough to rattle his cage. There was really no need to tempt his control with images of a dripping Shūhei clad only in a towel.

While Shūhei showered, Kensei surveyed the kitchen, not in the least surprised that the brat didn't have an awful lot of food in the house. He located bread, butter, sugar, cinnamon, milk, cream and top-quality dark cocoa powder and grinned, pleased with his discoveries. He would feed the brat cinnamon toast and cinnamon-laced hot chocolate, sweet enough to calm Shūhei's jangling nerves and rich enough to help put a bit of padding back on the lean frame.

Decision made, Kensei set a frying pan on the stove to heat while he cut two slices of bread into fingers. He added a hefty chunk of butter to the frying pan and while he waited for it to melt, he mixed milk, cream, sugar, cinnamon and cocoa powder in another saucepan and placed that on the stove beside the frying pan.

It took just a few minutes to soak the toast in melted butter and dredge it in sugar and cinnamon before placing it under the grill. And only a few moments more before he had a plate of hot toast and a huge mug of warm, spicy cocoa all ready.

"God, that smell!" Shūhei groaned as he stepped into the kitchen. "I've just died and gone to heaven."

He had changed into drawstring pants and a collared shirt. His hair was damp, his feet were bare and Kensei had to make a determined effort not to drool.

"Like?"

"Oh, yeah," Shūhei settled himself at the kitchen table. "I'd forgotten how handy you are in the kitchen."

"And around a camp fire, brat, don't forget that."

"How could I? We used to be the envy of the whole brigade. All we had to do was _find_ food and dinner was taken care of. Nobody else had it that easy!"

Kensei grinned, watching the toast disappear at light speed and wondering if he should make more. "Maybe I should have taught you how to cook it, too. But what's the benefit of being in charge if I can't do what I like best?"

"That I can find me a mountain of food, but then still starve to death?"

There was a twinkle in Shūhei's eyes now that Kensei was glad to see. "That is a handicap," he agreed. "And one I need to take responsibility for. Maybe a few cookery lessons are in order."

"Tried that," Shūhei said around a mouthful of hot chocolate. "Our local curry house did a cookery evening, and I went along to learn how to make their lamb phall." He set the mug on the table and leaned back in the chair. "Let's just say... it didn't end well."

"How so?" The blush on Shūhei's face intrigued Kensei enough to keep at it.

"Well...," Shūhei picked up the mug and hid his face. "I set the ingredients on fire."

Kensei was stunned to silence before – predictably – he burst out laughing. "So you like your curry on the hot side?"

"It's not funny!"

"Yes it is," Kensei disagreed. "I didn't think I'd almost have a curry house on my conscience. They still serve you?"

"With great enthusiasm," Shūhei admitted. "They don't want to see the neighbourhood go up in flames any more than I do."

"Never thought I'd screw up that badly," Kensei said, still grinning like a madman. "But I'll make up for it, brat, I promise. I'll teach you how to cook without starting the next Great Fire of London."

"Good luck with that," Shūhei grumbled, draining his mug and holding it up. "Is there any more?"

"Sure." Kensei reheated the remaining chocolate and refilled Shūhei's mug. "Can't believe that your police friends don't look after you better," he said gently. "What do you usually do after one of these stunts? Just go home and dine on takeaway and whisky?"

Shūhei managed a lopsided grin. "That. And put my memory to good use."

"Missing persons?"

"Yes," Shūhei sighed over his next sip of hot chocolate. "Kira always wants me to look through his database of perverts, but if I've spotted any likely kids – like those two boys tonight – I'd rather find out about them."

Their earlier banter had eased the tension in Shūhei's frame, but now his shoulders crept towards his ears once more. Without a word, Kensei rose and stepped behind Shūhei's chair.

"Do you think they can be helped?" he asked as he dropped his hands to Shūhei's shoulders and started to rub the tight muscles.

"If they're strong enough." Shūhei made a face, but relaxed into Kensei's touch with a soft exhale. "You don't ever get out of hell undamaged. It tends to spit you out in jagged pieces. And sometimes, it takes just too much effort to put yourself back together."

"I've always wondered how you knew that."

"Now you know."

"No, I don't," Kensei disagreed softly. He slid his fingers down to Shūhei's shoulder blades, feeling the tightness in the slim frame and wanting to ease it. "I have a very faint idea. At most."

The collar of Shūhei's shirt hampered Kensei's fingertips on the upward stroke and he slipped his hand around to Shūhei's chest to undo the top button of the shirt. The fabric loosened and Kensei slipped his fingers inside to push it wide... when Shūhei shot out of the chair and away from Kensei as if he'd been burned.

"Don't!"


	8. Coming Home

**Author's Note:** This was supposed to be the last chapter of Job Hunt. Yes, I know, there weren't supposed to be _any_ chapters in the first place... but once I had reconciled myself to the boys telling a longer story, this was supposed to be the end. Back then, I didn't have a pimp-hunting Shuuhei, or an unsolved murder. And Lisa hadn't got herself assigned to the case yet.

Most importantly, though, I didn't have readers. I didn't know there would be people telling me they liked the story. And that they wanted to read more. So because of that, and after some soul-searching and some level-headed advice (thank you sardonicis imperfecta!) I've decided to explore our boys' relationship a bit more and get that murder solved... somehow. There may be a little gap while I catch up with Prospects and try to think my way out of this corner I've written myself into, but this story has a way to go yet.

To everyone who has read and reviewed, thanks for your company! You're the reason this story continues.

And now: my first attempt at a yaoi lemon. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Coming Home**

Shūhei turned away at the same time as Kensei reached for him and yanked him back. The brunet's shirt tore open, revealing the thin strip leather collar around his neck. Shūhei flushed a dull red and stood rigid under Kensei's scrutiny, staring anywhere but at the man before him.

Kensei reached out and brushed fingers over the soft material, tracing long-gone bloodstains. "I remember this," he said, awed as the past came calling in the most unexpected way. His closest brush with death was a fractured memory of heat and sand, shouting voices and the metallic scent of blood. He'd drifted in and out of consciousness a good deal, especially in the later stages, but he remembered Shūhei tearing the leather strip from Kensei's arm and using it to fashion a tourniquet.

He had never before considered the whereabouts of that particular strip of leather and the fact that Shūhei _wore_ it staggered and enlightened Kensei as much as Shūhei's rigid stance and flushed face. Memories and old observations aligned like the tumblers in a complicated lock and opened up chances he'd not even dared to dream about.

The choice was easy, though, and a moment later, he pinned Shūhei's back against the wall and pushed their lips together. For a small eternity, Shūhei stood frozen. Then he melted into the kiss with a soft moan that went straight to Kensei's groin.

"You blithering idiot! Why didn't you say something?" Kensei demanded when he drew back, his breathing ragged. It was so easy to get lost in Shūhei, all cinnamon and chocolate and heat, as if the younger man was a treat designed specifically for Kensei's senses.

"Yeah, like you did?" Shūhei sounded peeved.

"That's different. Back then, I couldn't make the first move."

"Same reason," Shūhei shot back. "I didn't want to jeopardize your career, either."

"Career? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Then why?"

"Your age, moron!" Kensei snarled. "Never been one for cradle-snatching."

"My age?" Shūhei's wide-eyed stare would have been comical, but for the outrage in the grey-green depths. "That's your excuse?" he demanded hotly. "I was old enough to go out and get shot for Christ's sake!"

They stared at each other until Kensei reached up and cupped Shūhei's cheek. "I realise that," he acknowledged, voice wry. "Only thing I can say is that – at the time – it felt all wrong. And given what I've learned tonight..."

Shūhei turned his head and let his lips brush Kensei's palm. "That's not the same and you know it," he said, the fire in his eyes replaced with certainty. "With you, I would've always had a choice."

"You still do."

"Then stay here?"

Kensei hesitated a heartbeat too long. Hurt bloomed across Shūhei's face.

"If you don't want..."

The rest was cut off as Kensei crushed the younger man back against the wall. "What _I_ want?" He husked in Shūhei's ear and relished the shiver that ran through the lithe form. "I tell you what _I_ want, brat. Rip every piece of fabric off you. Taste every inch of you. Screw you into the nearest available surface until you scream my name. And then do it again." He bit down on an earlobe until Shūhei arched helplessly against him. "Been wanting that for years. Just so we're clear."

He drew away, just far enough that he could pull Shūhei's chin up and meet the wide eucalyptus eyes. "Still doesn't mean that staying's a good idea. You're strung out and tired, Shuu. And tense as a bow."

"Help me relax?"

"Yeah, I could," Kensei sighed. "But I don't want you to regret this tomorrow morning."

"Regret this?" Shūhei's eyes widened and he touched fingertips to the strip of leather around his throat. "Does this look like I'll regret... anything?"

Kensei sighed. He was doing a lot of that lately and it hadn't done any good so far. And why was he fighting anyway? He didn't want to leave. And to sweeten the deal – if it actually needed sweetening – the brat wanted him to stay. "My rules," he growled before his brain had realised he'd opened his mouth. "I stay, but we play by my rules."

Kensei expected dissent, but if anything, Shūhei looked relieved. "Just... stay," he said softly. "I really don't need another hangover, but..."

"I remember." Kensei nuzzled a line from Shūhei's ear down his neck, tasting skin as he went and loving it. "Massage oil?"

"Bathroom."

Shūhei's answer was breathy. Kensei pushed away from the wall and the warm body he'd pinned against it, grinning when Shūhei swallowed a protesting whine. "Strip and get face down on the bed," he ordered and went to find himself some massage oil.

Compared to the muted chaos of Shūhei's bedroom, where makeup, costumes and weapons warred for space on floor and dresser, the bathroom was neat and well supplied. Besides various massage oils, Kensei spotted bath bombs, bath salts and other paraphernalia that produced a wide grin and set his mind racing, but he shelved the wayward thoughts. Tonight's objective was getting Shūhei to relax. Fun and games could wait.

He repeated that to himself a few more time for emphasis as he returned to the bedroom and found Shūhei stretched out on the deep green sheets. The brat lay on his stomach, head on a pillow and eyes on the bathroom door. The sheer want in the grey-green gaze did amazing things to Kensei's insides. It also made him question the sanity of his decision to stay. Again.

"You're a beautiful sight, brat," he husked, gaze sliding appreciatively over the endless legs, slim hips, firm ass and finely muscled back and arms. He knelt beside the bed so his face was level with Shūhei's. "Beautiful... and tempting... and far too tense." He punctuated each word with a soft brush of lips, pulling back when Shūhei reached for more contact.

"Take a deep breath in. Let it out slowly. Good. Again." The fingers of Kensei's right hand slid into Shūhei's hair and rubbed soothing circles over the younger man's scalp. "I want you completely relaxed," he said softly against Shūhei's ear. "Release all tension and let me work, ok?"

He waited for the nod before he traced the shell of Shūhei's ear with his tongue, his fingers pressing more firmly on Shūhei's scalp. With an explosive exhale Shūhei tried to lean into one touch and away from the other, unable to do either.

"There's a reward if you do as I say." Kensei's voice was low and seductive. He relished the shudder that rippled through the younger man's frame. He loved it even more when Shūhei closed his eyes and forced his muscles to soften.

"That's good," Kensei praised and stood. He shed his shirt, reached for the lavender scented oil and climbed up on the bed to straddle Shūhei's hips. "Hands under your head for the moment," he instructed as he poured oil into his hands to warm it. "I'll start on your shoulders and work my way across your back. I want you to stay relaxed at all times. Got it?"

Another small nod and Kensei set his hands to Shūhei's back. For a heady moment, he just held still and savoured the contact. His hands on warm, soft skin. The slow rise and fall of the ribs under his palms. The trust from a man who had every reason in the world to be wary. His brat was amazing. And Kensei wanted to keep it that way.

The thought calmed and steadied him. With careful movements, he began to spread the oil over Shūhei's back, finding continent-sized knots in the brat's neck and upper back in the process. No wonder Shūhei went about with his shoulders around his ears.

"You need a more ergonomic workstation," Kensei decided as he ran his thumbs along the edge of Shūhei's shoulder blades. "And fewer hours in front of a screen."

Shūhei's breathing hitched and he tried to stifle a low moan. "My workstation's just fine," he mumbled.

"Not if you're that tense." Kensei rubbed soothing circles, determined to loosen all the knots even if it took him until sunrise.

"I skipped my workouts while I was job hunting," Shūhei admitted.

"And more than a few meals," Kensei opined. "You really haven't changed much, have you?"

That had Shūhei tensing and pushing up onto his elbows. "That's not true," he said with a surprising amount of heat in his voice. "I'm nowhere near as stupid as I was back when."

"You were _never_ stupid." Kensei planted a hand flat in the middle of Shūhei's back and pushed him down onto the sheets before setting his hands either side of Shūhei's head and leaning forward so he could speak in the brunet's ear. "You've always been mad with skills and exceptional at your job. You do have a tendency to overanalyse and beat yourself up over things outside your control. And you get so caught up in what you're doing that you neglect your own needs." He nuzzled Shūhei's ear until the eucalyptus eyes slid closed and the taut frame beneath him relaxed. "Now, which of these assessments do you want to argue over?"

The younger man remained silent. His breath came in fast pants through half-opened lips when Kensei explored the area behind Shūhei's ear with the tip of his tongue. The brat had such an addictive taste, Kensei wanted nothing more than stay right where he was to explore and get lost.

But that wasn't on the menu. Not yet.

Kensei planted a soft kiss to the corner of Shūhei's mouth and then pushed himself upright. He poured more oil into his hands, warmed it and then began tracing Shūhei's ribcage with careful strokes. He could see the outline of a forming bruise on Shūhei's right side. Breath hissed through the younger man's lips as Kensei traced his fingertips softly across it.

"Badly bruised, but nothing broken," he declared finally. "You wanna tell me how he got that one in?"

A deep breath was his answer and a soft dusting of pink across Shūhei's neck and ears. Kensei held himself still and waited until Shūhei relented. "I was checking his pulse."

"Jesus, brat! You're unreal." Kensei dropped a quick kiss between Shūhei's shoulder blades to show he meant that in a good way, then continued working the muscles in the younger man's back and neck until the tightness eased and knots loosened, allowing Kensei to work his fingers deeper.

Shūhei's breaths grew into soft moans and he melted into the sheets as Kensei worked his way south. Shūhei held most of his tension in his neck and shoulders. The state of his upper back reflected the endless hours spent in front of computer screens with fingers busy on keyboards. His lower back, glutes, hamstrings and calves were in much better shape and Kensei eased back on the pressure he applied, but still diligently teased out even the smallest knot while enjoying the feel of soft, warm skin under his hands. Arousal added a pleasant buzz to his blood, but Kensei kept a lid on his needs. This night was for Shūhei, and Kensei had plans.

Still, those plans didn't stop him from taking pleasure in what he was doing. He could appreciate the brat's perfect ass and long, shapely legs just as much as the scandalous sounds Shūhei produced when Kensei's touch changed from massaging hamstrings to long caressing strokes up the inside of Shūhei's thighs and over the swell of his butt.

"Like?" he asked, repeating the move just to hear that low moan again.

"God, yes," Shūhei husked, shifting on the bed in search of friction.

Kensei pinned Shūhei's hips, hands pressing down firmly as he explored the perfect combination of firm muscle and yielding flesh that was Shūhei's butt. The skin under his fingers was silky soft. And the few silver lines of old scars didn't detract from the sensation. Kensei was reminded of items that were so wonderful, men deliberately added flaws to them, so that the gods would not be jealous.

A deep, ragged breath shuddered its way out of Kensei's throat. Straightening up and moving his hands took effort. God! He was becoming addicted to that perfect ass and they hadn't even started anything yet.

Kensei slipped off the bed and stood, when Shūhei's fingers took a firm grip on his wrist in a silent entreaty. The older man chuckled, but made no move to free his wrist. "Just need to wash the oil off my hands," he explained. "Get into bed. I'm not going anywhere."

He made his escape when Shūhei let go, fully aware that he needed a few moments. That in itself was unusual. Kensei loved to play and he _never_ lost control. So why was it suddenly so hard to focus even after a liberal application of cold water?

It was the brat, of course. Kensei had been attracted to the younger man almost from the day he first met him during Shūhei's basic training, but as he'd tried to point out to Shūhei earlier, cradle-snatching wasn't a pastime of his. Neither did he like to take advantage of people under his care. But that didn't mean he wasn't aware of how he felt. Or that he was hoping the brunet might return the sentiment.

Shūhei leaving the army – and on the exact day he'd saved Kensei's life only a year previously – had torn a hole into Kensei's world. For the longest time, he had wondered if the fault was his, if he'd been too obvious in his regard and scared the kid away. It was only when he found out that Shūhei was serving in MI6 that he had stopped blaming himself and instead made an effort to find the brat again.

And now he had, only to learn that he'd been right on both counts. Shūhei leaving the army had been his fault. But not because he'd been too obvious. Rather, he hadn't been obvious enough. Kensei splashed more cold water in his face and ran his wet hands through his hair. He wouldn't make that mistake again. From now on, he'd make doubly sure that Shūhei knew how much he was appreciated.

Starting... right now.

Only a single lamp shed its soft yellow glow across the bedroom when Kensei closed the bathroom door. Shūhei had hidden that delectable body under the quilt, but he was awake and watching from dark, intent eyes, apparently not yet convinced that Kensei would actually stay the night.

"Has anyone ever given you reason to believe they'd turn _you_ down?" Kensei wondered as he shucked his jeans and climbed under the quilt.

"I don't care about _anybody_," Shūhei replied, eyes careful. "Just you. And you _would _turn me down if you thought it was the right thing to do."

"Oh, you underestimate yourself, brat," Kensei turned onto his side and gave Shūhei a heated look. "C'me here." Shūhei shifted and Kensei pulled the brunet's back flush with his chest. He had to swallow a groan when the brat's tight little butt made contact with his groin – and he was doubly grateful now for keeping his briefs on. Skin on skin in _that_ area would evaporate his control at an even faster rate and that wasn't how the rest of this night was meant to go.

Instead, he slipped his arm under Shūhei's pillow and curled himself around the brunet in a full-body hug. "I'd have to be out of my mind to turn down something I've wanted for so long. And I assure you, I'm quite sane."

Startled, Shūhei turned his head and Kensei wasted not a single second. He kept the kiss slow and sweet, kept Shūhei wrapped tightly in his embrace, and relished it when the younger man relaxed into his hold and opened his lips.

"Ready for your reward?" Kensei breathed over kiss-swollen lips a while later, grinning when his only reply was a heartfelt moan.

"Ok, then, here's what we do. You stay where you are, totally relaxed... and I'll do my best to make you feel good." Kensei nipped on Shūhei's earlobe, causing the younger man to flinch. "Remember, I said _totally relaxed_. You tense up on me, I'll feel it... and I stop what I'm doing."

"Kensei, no – you can't..."

"Shhhh," Kensei soothed, lips ghosting over the shell of an ear. "It will be so worth it. Trust me."

"I do trust you," Shūhei argued hotly. "But I need-"

"I know what you need, Shūhei. Trust me. Relax. Every muscle. Completely." Kensei kept his voice low and hypnotic and after a long tense moment, Shūhei shuddered and let go. The body in Kensei's hold softened and relaxed.

"That's it. Stay just like that," Kensei sing-songed in low tones as his arms wrapped around the younger man. The fingers of his left hand traced the column of Shūhei's neck and explored his collarbones, while his other hand stroked upwards from Shūhei's firm, flat stomach to brush softly over his nipples.

Every time Shūhei tensed, Kensei's hands stopped moving until the younger man stopped trying to direct Kensei's actions.

"Make all the noise you want," Kensei whispered in Shūhei's ear. "Swear at me if you feel like it. Just make sure your muscles stay relaxed. It's worth it. Believe me." Kensei's mouth roamed over the shell of an ear and along the soft skin of Shūhei's neck until his lips landed on the pulse-point at the base of Shūhei's throat. There he rested while his hands played, while Shūhei's breaths turned to moans and the occasional curse crept through Shūhei's control.

The fingers tracing Shūhei's collarbones slipped down to toy with his nipples, while the other hand began to explore ridged abs and dip into Shūhei's navel.

Shūhei's hips rocked forwards, enticing the playing fingers, and Kensei froze.

"Relax, Shūhei," he instructed softly. "You're doing well. Just stay relaxed ... totally relaxed..."

Shūhei actually ground his teeth. And managed some highly creative language that had Kensei grinning. Oh, yeah – here was the brat he remembered, temper and all. The years hadn't impeded Shūhei's ability outswear a regiment of dragoons, but he still trusted Kensei enough to give in... eventually.

A heady mix of emotions washed through Kensei. That his brat would trust him that much was... an unexpected gift. And as Shūhei resigned himself to Kensei taking the lead in their play and followed instructions, Kensei kept his lips over Shūhei's pulse.

Kensei's hands roamed over the enticing body he was wrapped around: teasing nipples, stroking Shūhei's balls, wrapping fingers around his length for long, slow strokes... only to stop and retreat when they'd driven the younger man close to the edge. To let him recover his breath, let his heartbeat even out, before starting the pleasurable torture once more.

"I could do this for hours," Kensei husked while his fingertips teased Shūhei's painfully hard length with soft little flicks. "Just to listen to the sounds you're making."

"Never... took you for a... tease," Shūhei panted with the effort to keep still.

"Shows how much you don't know," Kensei smiled and sank his teeth into Shūhei's neck to a yelp of surprise.

Shūhei's breaths had turned into toned sobs and the sky outside the bedroom window showed the first hints of grey when Kensei finally relented. He shifted his knee over Shūhei's legs to pin him more firmly in place, while his left hand turned Shūhei's face up so he could claim his mouth.

A brutally hard grip on Shūhei's length and vicious twist-pinch-pull to a nipple had Shūhei's body buck and writhe in sudden shock. In no time at all, he was careening over the edge Kensei had kept him on for so long, his scream muffled by Kensei's kiss.

Kensei kept hold of Shūhei as his body bucked and shuddered, as the younger man came down from the high and melted into boneless bliss against the body wrapped around him.

"That was..." Shūhei's voice was but a thread of sound.

"Worth it?" Kensei enquired as he reached for Shūhei's shirt to clean up the mess.

"You're not kidding."

Shūhei sounded drowsy, content and already half asleep. And Kensei shifted to his back and pulled the younger man close, pillowing Shūhei's head on his shoulder. His body throbbed and burned, but Kensei found that compared to seeing Shūhei's face relax in sleep, body soft against Kensei's side, that burn meant little. He rested his chin on Shūhei's head and, deeply grateful for the chance to hold his brat so peacefully after all the time he'd spent chasing him, Kensei drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Shūhei came awake on a wave of contentment, his mind blissfully at peace and warmth and solidity surrounding him. With a grateful sigh, he nuzzled his face into Kensei's neck. His lips dragged over soft skin and his tongue slipped out to catch a taste.

"Good morning to you, too," Kensei husked and the roughness in the other man's voice sent blood straight to Shūhei's groin.

He wasn't an innocent by any stretch of the imagination, but the previous night had been something he'd never experienced before. He couldn't explain how Kensei had done it; he just knew that he'd never hung on the edge of release for such a long time. And he'd certainly never come so hard that his release was close to pain and left his body thrumming _and_ boneless all at once. He didn't even remember falling asleep – and that had never happened before.

And all wanted right now was to make Kensei feel as out of control and desperate and _needy _as he had been when Kensei had pleasured him.

Shūhei slid his hand across Kensei's pecs, delighted to find a small nipple ring to play with, while his lips sucked on the soft skin of Kensei's neck. The arms around him tightened, and Shūhei chose to take that as an invitation. His lips moved down to tease the other, unpierced nipple and when he felt the little nub harden under his ministrations, he slipped his hand down to trace the edge of Kensei's briefs. He was just about to slip his fingers underneath the elastic, when one of Kensei's hands flew down and stopped him.

"You don't want me to return the favour?" Shūhei hoped he didn't sound as confused as he felt. He would have sworn that Kensei was enjoying his caresses.

"Sure I do, brat, just not now," Kensei replied unexpectedly. He wrapped Shūhei into a bear hug and pushed himself upright until he leaned against the headboard and their eyes met. "I wanna savour you for something special... go slow and explore, spend hours teasing you." Kensei's hand came up and Shūhei had to bite back a groan when Kensei started dragging blunt nails over his scalp. "What would you say to spending the weekend with me?"

"After last night? I'd have to be stupid to miss out on a repeat performance," Shūhei grinned at the expression of relief that crossed Kensei's face. "You thought I'd turn _you_ down?"

"You've always been a law onto yourself, Shūhei," Kensei said softly. "I can read you, but I find it damn difficult to predict your actions."

"Ditto," Shūhei smiled, unwilling to let go of his blissful mood. "I've never had something so...," he searched for a word that would adequately describe his experience. "... intense," he finally decided. "And we didn't really do anything." He straightened in Kensei's lap and brought their faces close. "Just make sure you have a fire extinguisher handy," he said before he claimed the older man's lips.

Time passed in blissful exploration until Kensei drew away and sat up. "We'd better get up," he declared, voice a command. "You have an appointment with HR this morning to sign your contract."

Shūhei tried to marshal a reasonable number of brain cells into working order. "Not such a good idea, since we've just compromised our working relationship with a one night stand," he mumbled and pushed himself upright.

"I really can't flatter myself, can I?" Kensei grumbled and pinned Shūhei with a lightning move. "I swear to God if you don't stop spouting bullshit I'll tie you to something sturdy, find my belt and explain _in detail _why I spent favours and my employer's resources to find you."

For a long moment Shūhei stared, then he started to laugh like he hadn't laughed in years. When the helpless chuckles threatened to turn into something far more embarrassing, he reached up and pulled the white-haired man close. "God, Kensei, I love you," he mumbled against a shoulder, when he finally relaxed.

Kensei held him until his breathing evened out. "Does this mean you'll come work for me and you won't give me any more trouble?" he queried as Shūhei sat up.

"I'll work for you," Shūhei agreed, excitement starting to thread through his mind as he began to contemplate new challenges ahead. "Not sure about giving you trouble, though."

The way they moved through their morning routine made Shūhei think of long-married couples or the well-trained staff behind a busy cocktail bar. It felt like a closely choreographed dance routine that allowed them to share space without one impeding the other. Shūhei had spent nights with lovers, but the mornings had always been fraught with awkwardness. With Kensei, everything seemed easy, everything they did just... worked. And while Shūhei didn't believe that things would stay that way, he wanted to take advantage while the going was good.

"What do you say we go out for breakfast?" Kensei's shout came from the kitchen. Clearly, he'd remembered from the previous night that Shūhei's culinary resources were severely limited.

"Great idea. Think you can handle the _Ten Deadly Sins_?" The look on Kensei's face was worth recording for posterity, but Shūhei just grabbed his hand and dragged him out the door, content to let matters explain themselves in due course.

~*~ TBC ~*~


	9. Tease and Challenge

**Author's Note:** Yay, the boys are back! After providing nothing but Ken/Shuu shorts and oneshots for a couple of months the muse has finally seen fit to supply enough plot to continue the murder hunt. First, though, Shuuhei has to sign his contract with Kuchiki Industries. And then, of course, there's Kensei's invitation to spend the weekend...

Have fun everyone... and thanks for sticking around! (Oh, and btw, I still don't own the boys...)

* * *

**Tease and Challenge**

"I can't _believe _I've eaten all that!" Shūhei groaned and rubbed his stomach. He felt stuffed. Content, sort of happy, but definitely stuffed. Breakfast had been magnificent, Simpson's kitchen doing full justice to the famous meal they called _The Ten Deadly Sins_. Shūhei had devoured Cumberland sausage and baked tomatoes, indulged in liver and bacon, black pudding and mushrooms, and followed that up with bubble and squeak, fried bread, scrambled eggs and baked beans. And when toast and jam and various pastries appeared on the table, Shūhei was convinced he wouldn't need to eat for the rest of the weekend. Now, the table in front of him was a splendid ruin, with Kensei – looking like a sleek, well-fed cat – presiding over the teapot.

"I can't believe it either," Kensei replied in a deep, amused rumble, pushing away his empty plate. The older man had opted for a more reasonably sized full English breakfast but his plate was just as bare as Shūhei's. "But since you do need more meat on your bones, I'm perfectly willing to indulge your appetite."

_... hmmm_. The brunet hid his face in his fourth cup of coffee. _Too easy_. He slipped a foot out of the soft suede loafers he wore and slid it up the inside of Kensei's leg. Voluminous white tablecloths had their advantages, after all.

"Shūhei!" The faintest hint of pink dusted Kensei's cheekbones. He slid as far back into the seat as he could, trying to avoid Shūhei's questing toes... and failing.

"Yes?"

"This is one of London's oldest, most respectable restaurants," Kensei stated firmly. "I come here a lot."

"Yes?"

"So I wouldn't relish being thrown out."

Shūhei made puppy-dog eyes. "You just said you'd be perfectly willing to indulge my appetite," he purred.

"Food, Shūhei!" Kensei spluttered. "I was talking about food."

"Of course." Shūhei kept his face blank and his eyes down as he slipped his foot back into the loafer. He finished his coffee and quietly started to arrange the used china into neat piles. Opposite him, Kensei fidgeted. He opened his mouth a few times as if to make a comment, then gave up and called for the bill instead.

When that was settled, Shūhei stood without a word and turned towards the exit, amused when Kensei stayed close. Too close.

"Kensei..." Shūhei drew out the name on a sigh, heard the hitch in the older man's breath and spun around with a huge grin splitting his face. "You don't need to step on my hems, you know. I was't planning on running in the other direction."

"Why you little..."

Shūhei ducked out of the way of a fist trying to connect with the back of his head and laughed. "You should have seen that guilty look on your face... undercover work is not for you, believe me!"

"You are a manipulative little..."

"Kensei!" Shūhei wanted to grab the man by the front of his polo shirt and push him against the nearest wall, but he restrained himself. Simpson's hallowed halls were not the place for horseplay. Not for Kensei, at any rate. "Keep calling me names and I _will_ run," he declared in his most ominous voice. "Just... FYI."

And with that he was out the door and down the steps before Kensei could reply.

Shūhei slipped smoothly into the thick pedestrian traffic, walking just a bit faster than most of the people heading to work. He had never quite understood the buzz of working a crowd, but right then, dodging and weaving around human-shaped obstacles, aware that Kensei was trying to catch up without creating an obvious scene, Shūhei suddenly felt insanely happy. The unexpected surge of emotion stopped him in his tracks. He was... happy. And it had little to do with the fact that it was Friday, or that the sun was shining. The excitement of a new job was probably a contributor, but most of his elation was firmly tied to the man who was drawing level with him, amber eyes narrowed and looking like a thunder-cloud.

A broad hand closed around his bicep, holding him in place. "You deserve an ass-whipping for that stunt."

"Promise?" Giddiness flooded Shūhei as he rendered Kensei speechless for a second time that morning.

It didn't last long.

"For Christ's sake, Shūhei, will you get a grip!"

"Sorry." Shūhei drew a deep breath and slowly let it out. He was standing on The Strand during the morning rush, pedestrian traffic surging around him, and wondered why feeling happy reminded him of crazy nights drinking and laughing with Renji. It couldn't have been that long since he felt like this, could it? He smiled into irate amber eyes. "I was just teasing."

"Well, don't. It's irritating."

The growl was more bark than bite and the smile that crinkled the corners of Kensei's eyes made Shūhei's insides do funny backflips. He managed a half-hearted salute and winked: "Yes, sir."

xxX oOo Xxx

"I suppose I have you to thank for my re-arranged schedule and this ..." A slender hand waved at a thick concertina file on the corner of the desk and Kensei tried not to flinch.

"Guilty as charged," he admitted and stepped into the one room in the building that never failed to calm him. The walls in Unohana's office were painted a pale amethyst grey, the furniture was dark autumn leaf oak and a deep red sofa and two armchairs invited visitors to take their ease. Flowering hibiscus trees in dark red ceramic pots were dotted around the room, adding splashes of bright colour along with two datura plants and a deep purple bougainvillea.

Kensei's office faced The Strand and offered views over London's skyline and the River Thames. But Unohana had opted for an office with windows onto the inner, glass-roofed courtyard of the Kuchiki Industries building and the graceful tall birch that took up the courtyard's centre. Most days, Kensei liked his view out over London, but he could appreciate the serenity of Unohana's domain, a place to relax tight controls for just a moment.

"So you really managed to convince him," Retsu Unohana said, thoughtful, inviting her visitor to take a seat and reaching for the teapot on her desk. "I'm impressed."

"Don't be," Kensei huffed in mild irritation. "It didn't go as planned."

"Because of the police operation?" Retsu poured tea and held out a cup. "Close your mouth, Kensei. I am still not clairvoyant. Lisa called me earlier, so I know you didn't have the most restful of nights and neither did your Hisagi."

Kensei considered scoffing at Unohana's description of his night, or taking umbrage at having Shūhei apostrophised as his, but in the end he did neither. Knowing Retsu, each word had been chosen with the utmost deliberation and it was far safer to let her say what she felt she needed to say.

"How is he handling the death of that child?"

"Professionally," Kensei replied, wondering if that was really true or if Shūhei was even better at hiding than he gave him credit for. "A little uneven when something catches him off guard, maybe."

"Lisa wants his help with the investigation," Unohana said, unexpectedly.

"I'm not surprised. He's good." Kensei's mind filled with images of Shūhei moving about the dim club assessing targets, exits and potential victims, missing nothing despite a belladonna-induced headache, impaired vision and the obvious disadvantages of using himself as bait. He'd had to run that op with minimal intel and no backup, but once there Shūhei had owned the space and had done everything he needed to do to achieve his objective. "Damn good, actually."

"So you approve?"

"Not my place to approve or disapprove," Kensei said slowly. "Not my place to stop him if he wants to help, either. Don't think I could." There had been a time, years ago, when he had been able to control the dangers Shūhei faced. Now, his brat had grown up and Kensei could watch and advise, but control was outside his remit. The thought stuck in his craw, though he was honest enough to admit that Shūhei grown up and making his own decisions was an enticing prospect.

Unohana smiled ever so slightly. "You didn't answer my question," she said.

"Retsu, it's not my place to make his choices. Do I want him to stick his head into a hornet's nest and rip open wounds from his past? Hell no! Do I want him to do what he needs to be at peace? Yes, I do. Does _that_ answer your question?"

"More than you realise, perhaps."

His teacup rattled in the saucer and Kensei growled in frustration. It was Friday – and yes, people were a little more relaxed on Fridays – but that shouldn't have translated into everyone thinking that teasing him would be a good idea. Shūhei had almost driven him insane that morning and – within minutes of stepping into his new office – had promptly recruited Frazer to join him. For two specialists of their calibre, defining the spec for Shūhei's workstation should have been the work of moments. Or at least, that's what Kensei had thought. Instead, the two started drooling over processors, memory and various esoteric components as if they were pictures in a dirty magazine, arguing in high, excited voices and trading insults like a long-married couple. And the way Shūhei, in his tight black jeans, kept bending over the desk to point at stuff in the catalogue Frazer held...Kensei had left them to it in the end and had holed up in his office, intent on burying himself in work.

He ended up watching Shūhei on the security feed instead. Grainy images of his brat smiling and arguing animatedly blended with images of Shūhei barefoot and in tight leather pants, of soft skin under his hands, of the brunet writhing and shuddering in his arms until Kensei could barely contain himself.

Yeah, he'd sure got it bad in a hurry.

xxX oOo Xxx

"Your application was most impressive."

"Thank you." Shūhei leaned back in the comfortable armchair, keeping his hands loosely in his lap. He wondered if the chairs were deep red for a reason, an imaginary hot seat designed to make the occupant squirm and spill secrets they'd rather keep hidden. It was a fanciful notion, but not easily dismissed given the company. The woman sitting opposite him, Retsu Unohana, might look unassuming with her neat figure and neater braid, but she had a stare like a power drill. Fortunately, Shūhei was years past getting flustered by stares. Even ones as intent as hers.

"You provided an extremely detailed analysis of the shortcomings of the company's network as part of your approach to us," Unohana began their conversation, her voice soft and melodious. "Why?"

"Network security is one of my specialties. You could say I was showing off my talents."

"I could also draw a very different conclusion."

Hot seat, definitely, Shūhei decided, unfazed. At least she wasn't beating around the bush. "I don't list blackmail as one of my specialties."

Retsu Unohana's smile lit her face from within, like the glow of a candle lights a stained-glass window on a dark night. Shūhei loved the expression and it drew a smile from him in return. "It's part of my preparation," he offered. "I see no point in applying to a company that does not need my skills."

"You made your decision where to apply based on whether the company needed your skills?"

Shūhei nodded. "It was one of my criteria, yes."

"May I ask what other criteria you applied?"

"Integrity, cash flow, reputation, ethics, corporate policies, level and nature of competition, short and long-term threat level," Shūhei recited in an almost bored voice. Then he sat back and waited for it.

Unohana busied herself making notes on a pad. She used a type of shorthand Shūhei couldn't decipher from his position, but then she listed the criteria he had just recited in plain script. "You realise you've already broken one of those corporate policies."

"I'm not an employee of Kuchiki Industries... yet."

Shūhei pushed his back more securely into the armchair and relaxed his posture on a breath. This was the second time Unohana had tried to rile him. A hint of accusation, followed by a veiled threat. No doubt the third attack would be the charm, intended to breach his defences. Shūhei stopped himself from folding his arms across his chest as if he needed protection. His fingers wanted to tap on the arms of the chair to distract his mind, but he kept them in his lap, unmoving. He waited, breathing slowly and taking comfort from the silence as he had been trained to do.

"Do you frequently break the law, Mr. Hisagi?"

An unexpected moment of respite. _Very smart._ Shūhei was severely tempted to let his sense of mischief take over. Just for a moment or two, to see if he could shock this woman with the gorgeous smile and mind like a spymaster into losing her footing on that tightrope they both balanced on. It was an appealing thought, but prudence won in the end. Prudence and a sense of duty.

"You're aware of my employment history, ma'am. So you have to be aware of the fact that I am not at liberty to discuss any of it."

Not that he would have wanted to discuss his past even if he'd been at liberty to do so. The few people who knew did so because they'd seen him at work, not because he'd told them. Talking about himself had never been Shūhei's way. Though why that thought produced an image of Kensei standing on his doorstep and staring at Shūhei from amber eyes in which shock and heat mixed most effectively...

Returning his focus to the conversation took effort. Unohana was smiling at him, but this time, the smile was nothing more than a tiny curl of lip and Shūhei braced himself.

"What is your association with Kensei Muguruma?"

Bingo.

"He was my commanding officer while I served in the army."

More illegible notes blossomed on Unohana's pad. The woman wrote and wrote as if Shūhei's succinct answer demanded a lengthy commentary. Shūhei was sure his voice and body language were perfect. She was baiting him. She had to be.

"Does he know you well?"

"Yes." _Too well, perhaps. Or not well enough if he thinks I need an impromptu psych eval._

"Were you aware that Kensei headed our corporate security division when you applied to Kuchiki Industries?"

Shūhei let himself smile as he remembered the moment Kensei had walked back into his life. Three days ago that had been. And now everything had changed. "I had no idea. I thought he was still serving."

A knock on the door announced a tray of coffee. Shūhei accepted a cup with a grateful bow of his head, understanding that the preliminary skirmish was done, the teasing encounter was over. What came next was serious business. And Unohana wasn't hanging around.

"I would like to understand the reasons for your initial refusal to accept this position. And how your involvement in an ongoing police investigation will affect your work for Kuchiki Industries."

xxX TBC Xxx

**A/N:**

And so we're on the road again. Please let me know what you like and what you don't. It really helps me focus and write. Thanks!


	10. Security Leaks and Other Games

**Author's Note: **Damn that Kuchiki! Really, I have no idea where the dratted man has got to, but he's just as elusive here as he's in Prospects and getting him written is like pulling teeth. Only worse. So, apologies to all Byakuya fans for this extremely crappy bit of characterisation. Only, I didn't want to have another story that's not going anywhere just on account of a non-cooperative mining tycoon.

Shūhei, meanwhile, is starting to earn his wages. So, I'm sticking with that, if you don't mind.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Security Leaks and Other Games**

Shūhei made his way to Kensei's office two hours later. Activity in the building had died down while he evaded Retsu Unohana's carefully chosen personal questions and answered all work-related ones. Most employees had taken advantage of the fine weather and the chance to leave early on a Friday afternoon and the almost empty corridors and open-plan offices breathed calm and tranquillity. The low hum of electronics on standby, of processor cooling fans and air conditioning reminded Shūhei of long, quiet nights huddled over screens and keyboard, chasing trails too faint to follow in the daytime. It was work he loved, and work he looked forward to spending time doing once more.

He passed his new desk, fingers caressing the smooth wood. Four flat screens now lined the top edge of the solid oak board, and a low profile keyboard and graphics tablet with stylus took up the space in the centre. Only the heart of the setup was missing and, seeing how quickly Frazer had started on the plans they'd made this morning, Shūhei was fairly certain that he'd have most of the requested gear by Monday.

The sandy-haired Scot was as much fun to work with as Shūhei had thought he'd be when they first met during his interview. They held very similar views on technology and before Shūhei had been dragged off to his meeting with the HR manager, he'd watched Frazer deal with an attempted break-in in a way that commanded his admiration. The Scot was quick, decisive and did very neat work.

"Come in and grab a seat," Kensei instructed when Shūhei popped his head around the doorframe of Kensei's office. "I'm almost done."

The older man had his nose buried in a stack of financial-looking forms, pen moving swiftly across the page. It was a side of Kensei that Shūhei hadn't seen before and the fact that Kensei sat meekly filling forms, and looked like an accountant doing so, only added to Shūhei's good mood. He closed the door and wandered across the expanse of pale carpet towards the windows.

"Wow," he huffed as he fell into one of the armchairs and stretched his long legs towards the lemon tree growing in a deep blue metal container. "That last one had claws and teeth. And a mind that wouldn't be out of place over there." He waved a hand in the general direction of the MI6 building along the river.

Kensei looked up from the form he was filling out. "Unohana? She's ex, just like you. Though I think she still consults at times."

"Right." Shūhei swivelled his head and contemplated the view, mind running on multiple tracks at once. He shuddered at the idea of consulting for his old firm and wondered where exactly Kensei's 'ex' would place the dark-haired woman. Their little battle of wills had been entertaining. Unohana had clearly been trained in interrogation; but Shūhei knew from experience that not everyone who'd had the training was actually any good at the job. Unohana, though, had that steel-trap mind that characterised the best interrogators and she'd shown just enough flexibility to make Shūhei think she might be truly outstanding. Added to that, the woman had access to classified information not pertaining to national security.

_"You are currently involved in a police investigation."_

He would bet his favourite laptop that she'd been profiling him during their discussion. Her cryptic writings hinted as much, as did the abrupt switches in topic. The schema she used hadn't been familiar, but Shūhei didn't tend to stick to the standard ones when he worked either. And despite all the games and challenges, Unohana's had been a comforting presence, a vibe that something in Shūhei responded to however much she pushed him out of his comfort zone.

"I like her," he finally decided, startled from his contemplation when Kensei barked a laugh.

"You'd better, brat. Retsu Unohana is someone you want to keep on your side in a fight. Just like the Kuchiki." He rose and shuffled the papers into a neat stack. "Are you ready to sign your life away?"

"For you? Sure." Shūhei grinned, stretching suggestively as he stood just to yank Kensei's chain a little. "I had no idea you'd let me spec my own equipment!"

"If I had known how much you were going to spend," Kensei huffed, "I would have set a budget."

"Ah," Shūhei waved the complaint away, "Frazer knows his stuff. It's gonna be epic!"

"It better be." And with that, Kensei was right there in Shūhei's space. A large warm hand slipped around the back of Shūhei's neck and Kensei's mouth closed over Shūhei's, hard and hungry and all too brief. "Let's get this done," Kensei ordered before Shūhei had a chance to complain about unexpected attacks or their brevity. "We have a weekend starting straight after."

**xxX oOo Xxx**

After years of barracks, student digs and plain, utilitarian office furniture in various shades of Whitehall Ugly, the stylish design of the Kuchiki Industries HQ had attracted Shūhei's attention long before he ever thought of applying to the company. He liked the idea of working in a building where grandiose Victorian architecture blended with glass and muted colours, with real wood and flowering plants, with specimen minerals and well-chosen art.

His introductory tour that morning, courtesy of Kensei, had confirmed that the whole building was as impressive as the lobby and visitor area. Each floor had its own distinctive style from colours and carpets to the type of art that was on display on the walls and in glass cabinets in the corridors. And to crown it all a dojo, gym and core store in the basement were augmented by a bistro-cum-cafeteria on the ground floor that didn't just serve home-cooked food and freshly baked pastries, but hand-roasted arabica coffee in proper china cups. Earlier in the week during his interview, Shūhei had thought the coffee machine in the corporate security office dispensed liquid gold compared to the sludge produced by the office vending machines he was accustomed to but this... coffee that smelled and tasted as if someone had taken care and time to make it... this was a workaholic's dream of heaven.

The enticing smell of freshly roasted coffee beans also permeated the executive floor as Shūhei followed Kensei out of the stairwell and through the double doors towards Byakuya Kuchiki's office. Judging by the empty desks, the CEO's support staff had already left, but a rich baritone could be heard through the slightly open doors inviting them to enter.

Shūhei felt the sudden need to apologise for his presence as the CEO of Kuchiki Industries stepped around his desk and moved towards the centre of the room. He'd seen photographs of Byakuya Kuchiki, of course he had, but none of them had conveyed the fact that the mining tycoon looked like he'd be at home on a catwalk. Since it was Friday he wore black slacks and an open-necked amethyst shirt, but somehow he looked more formal than Shūhei could manage even in a dress suit. Fortunately, there wasn't much formality about his greeting.

"I'm Byakuya Kuchiki," the mining tycoon introduced himself as he held out a hand.

"Shūhei Hisagi," Shūhei replied, cheered by the firm handshake and lack of posturing that was so different from the jealousies and insecurities of overpaid civil servants he'd dealt with for years.

They moved to the group of armchairs by the window and Shūhei had a moment to look around the executive office: Pale blue-grey walls, carpets of a darker shade, dark oak furniture in a very modern design and rocks... on Byakuya's desk, in glass cases, on the low coffee table... samples and specimens both.

During the day Shūhei had begun to classify parts of the building by greenery: flowers in Unohana's domain, bamboo arrangements in HR, citrus trees and herbs in the corporate security division... so it struck him as curious that the CEO's spacious office didn't hold a single plant. Shūhei was reminded of his best friend and the rooms they'd shared as students. _I'm away so often, they'll only die, _Renji used to say. _So I'd rather admire them in situ._ And Shūhei wondered if the mining tycoon would express similar sentiments if asked.

"What made you suspect our network security needed improving?" The Kuchiki queried once they were seated and Shūhei felt his lips turn up at the corners.

"Rumours, mostly."

"Expand on that, please. What kind of rumours?"

The request came smoothly and Shūhei thought about his answer, considering facts he could reveal and details he couldn't. "I noticed commonalities in takeover bids that have been made for Kuchiki Industries and other companies in a variety of sectors," he said slowly. "Eventually, I came up with a list of... likely targets, if you will."

"And we were on that list?"

"Yes, sir."

Eyebrows twitched, so slightly that Shūhei would have missed the tiny movement if he hadn't watched for it. Lips tightened by a fraction and the grey eyes darkened in an emotion Shūhei took for frustration.

"I will let Kensei explain the particulars of our specific situation," Byakuya said after a moment. "I won't bother you for information you're not at liberty to provide. But I'll expect you to make sure we're as protected from attacks as we can be. And I want to be kept informed about your progress and any threats you discover from here on out."

The last instruction was clearly directed at both of them, and Shūhei watched Kensei nod in agreement. "Shūhei's first job will be to isolate that leak."

"You said it's not hurting us anymore."

"It's not, but I still want it shut down."

Kensei's tone made something in Shūhei sit up and take notice. In no time at all, his mind was seething with conjecture but true to form and training he considered it prudent to wait to confirm Kensei's statement.

Once they'd left the Kuchiki's office, though, he turned to Kensei. "Which leak?" he demanded.

Kensei pulled a face. "Financial information is leaking out of the company."

"Oh, _that_ leak."

"What do you mean, _that_ leak?"

Shūhei held back on his answer a moment longer than necessary, expecting a trap, an attempt on Kensei's part to get him back for his teasing. But when Kensei's face showed nothing but intent expectation, he shrugged and sighed. "You don't _know_ we have another one?"

"You're not joking."

"No."

"Can you show me?"

"Sure."

Kensei turned and stalked down the corridor, shoulders stiff and hands in fists. He ignored the lift, opting to take the stairs again, and Shūhei followed, not even a little bit surprised that the start of their weekend would be delayed.

**xxX oOo Xxx**

"Help yourself."

Kensei indicated the workstations lining the back wall of his office and Shūhei slid into the chair in front of one and keyed the system. "Login?"

Kensei came to stand behind him. "You can't break in?"

"Sure." Shūhei slid down in the chair and tipped his head back so he could observe his boss. Kensei upside down was just as breathtaking a sight as Kensei right way up, even in this tense and irritated incarnation. He smiled a little at the strange easiness of their interaction, at how he wasn't at all embarrassed to be thinking such things even though Kensei stood right there. "Just didn't think you'd want me to waste the weekend doing it."

Kensei leaned forward until he could claim Shūhei's lips in a soft, upside-down kiss. His hands reached for the keyboard and started typing.

"You're right, of course," he said, straightening while hitting return. "There you go."

"I hope that wasn't your idea of preserving network security," Shūhei said while his hands went to work. "Go change your password."

"You mean to tell me you weren't distracted?" There was a pout in Kensei's voice, right alongside the grin. "I swear you had your eyes closed."

"My ears worked just fine. Go. Change. The password."

The keyboard keys rattled staccato as Shūhei connected to the laptop he used at home and found the relevant links and passwords. Ten minutes later, he'd located his secret stash of data on the far side of the internet and requested access.

"And now we wait."

"For?"

"The backdoor to open." Shūhei leaned back in the chair and watched Kensei fidget. Memories of splintered wooden chairs, wrecked by muscles so tense they misjudged their own strength, washed through his mind. Nights full of maps and banter and caffeine. Fingers in his hair, rubbing gently to keep him awake for a little while longer. The crunch of sand underfoot-

Shūhei straightened abruptly and hit keys at random. He so wasn't going there. Even if he had to re-run the security protocol on his stash.

He was lucky and the sequence had completed before he'd begun his interruption. The backdoor opened and he snuck in, quickly locating the library and directories he needed. And a moment later green lines of text filled his screen.

"That's not very fancy."

"I don't need it to be fancy," Shūhei replied absently. "I need it to be secure. And it is." He selected a file and copied it before retracing his steps, one keystroke at a time. "Now tell me that's public domain and we can all go home," he said as he opened the map and report he'd copied and made space for Kensei in front of his screen.

Kensei stared at the report, brows drawn together over his amber eyes as he read.

"Hell no!"

"That's what I thought."

**xxX oOo Xxx**

"I should have come by bike," Kensei groused. The A316 was bumper-to-bumper and the Range Rover's powerful engine barely managed a crawl. 6 o'clock had been and gone and why everyone was still out on the road when they could be firing up the barbecue or eating pizza in front of the telly was a mystery to Kensei.

The confirmation of the second leak had thrown an unexpected spanner into his weekend plans. He had immediately begun compiling an initial threat assessment and instigated lockdown procedures, pleased when Shūhei went to work on locating leaked documents and tracing their paths without complaint or having to be asked. Information passed smoothly between them as if they'd never stopped working together. Kensei hadn't suggested they call it a day until he'd made his report to the Kuchiki and had seen Shūhei set programs in place to run over the weekend. By which time most of the rush hour traffic should have cleared. Instead, he was reduced to doing two miles an hour barely two miles from his destination.

"I really should have come by bike!"

Shūhei stretched in the passenger seat, arching his body until Kensei had to avert his gaze. Though not before he noted the teasing crinkles at the corners of the eucalyptus eyes. The brat was back to playing his games, and damned if Kensei didn't enjoy the show. At the very least, it took his mind off the traffic.

"Whatcha got?"

"Triumph Tiger."

"Nice."

"Very. You?" Shūhei had owned a bike ever since Kensei had known him. There was no doubt in his mind that he owned one now.

"Gixxer."

"Speed merchant."

"Oh, come on! A guy's allowed to have a little fun, right?" The morning's mischievous mood had returned with a vengeance. Without warning, Shūhei leaned over the centre console and buried his face in Kensei's lap, nuzzling the rapidly forming bulge.

"Shūhei!" Kensei tightened his grip on the steering wheel and pressed his back deeper into the seat to stop himself from pushing his hips up. No need to encourage the younger man. He was doing a fine job of driving Kensei crazy as it was.

"What?" Eucalyptus eyes slanted up to look at him. "Thought I owe you an apology for getting us stuck in ... that." A swish of dark spikes indicated the mass of crawling traffic in front of the Range Rover.

"And that traffic jam is your fault... how?"

"Not the jam. Just the fact we're in it. I could have told you about the other leak on Monday."

"Says the man who goes pimp hunting on an empty stomach and with a hangover just because someone's asking."

Shūhei shot upright, a flush burning its way across his face from ear to ear.

_Way, to go idiot! Just remind him, why don't you!_ The back of Kensei's left hand grazed a hot cheek in a soft apology. "Being conscientious is nothing to be ashamed of."

"I know." Shūhei voice was soft, but the flush was slowly fading. "Then, if I'd worked faster we wouldn't be here."

"Now you're really slipping, brat," Kensei said in a mock-sympathetic voice, while the traffic around him slowly began to shift. "I was expecting you to sting me for a superfast fibre optic broadband installation or satellite uplinks or some such crap. Are you tired or something?"

"Just hungry," came the reply and heat was back in the younger man's eyes.

Kensei ignored a few speed limits once he had extricated them from the traffic snarl. He took every back road and short cut he knew and breathed a sigh of relief when he could finally pull the Range Rover into his driveway.

Shūhei had made a much better job of hiding his impatience, but his arms wrapped around Kensei as soon as the front door closed behind them and he rested his cheek on the older man's shoulder.

"Wanted to do that all day."

Words on a soft exhale, barely there, and Kensei slid his palm around the brunet's neck and fingers up into dark spikes. Their first kiss was but a taste, a gossamer brush of lips but growing in urgency as the tip of Kensei's tongue grazed Shūhei's lower lip, as Shūhei slid his hands up Kensei's chest to tug and tease the nipple ring through the fabric of Kensei's shirt.

Electricity spiked up Kensei's spine at the touch and he tightened his other arm around Shūhei, pulling them flush together in a single hard move.

Of course, that's when his phone started to ring. And Shūhei's followed only a few seconds later.

**_xxX TBC Xxx_**

**Author's Note:**

Yes, I know I'm evil. But I'm very much of the opinion that we don't value things if they're too easily obtained. And since I'm an old romantic and love to see relationships work out...

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I was very unsure about the second half of this story and your comments really helped. So keep them coming, make me happy... and I'll retaliate by writing faster! :-)


	11. Halo or Noose?

**Author's Note:** Matters go rarely as planned, especially where Shūhei & Kensei are concerned. We ended the last chapter with the boys on the brink of starting a cozy weekend... only to be rudely interrupted by both their phones. Now they - or more exactly Shūhei - are being called to account for their exploits.

**Cultural references:** (1) New Scotland Yard, or simply 'the Yard', close to St. James' Park underground station, is the headquarters of the Metropolitan Police, the police force that covers Greater London. (2) in Britain, police officers DO NOT carry guns. Tactical SWAT teams and specialist firearms squads handle armed incidents. Guns, especially handguns, are not commonly available and the majority of Brits do not own or carry them. We're also discouraged from taking justice into our own hands, vigilante style. All this could add up to Shuuhei being in serious trouble with the law. (3) GBH stands for 'grievous bodily harm' and it's a punishable offence to inflict that much damage on another person. Shuuhei taking apart the bouncer who stabbed Rikichi would probably qualify for a GBH charge. (4) It's also an offence (as far as I'm aware) to carry a concealed weapon such as a knife with intent to use it.

And now, thanks for following along... and I hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Halo or Noose?**

Kensei dug for his phone while he moved a step further into the middle of the hallway to give Shūhei room to do the same. His hands shook a little and he fumbled with the buttons, but at least he had his breathing under control when he answered.

"Yadomaru," came the reply. "I know it's Friday and all, but I need you for statements."

Yep, that was Lisa. Straight to the point, common courtesy be damned. Kensei sighed, knowing that there was no way he could put her off until Monday. Or even until morning. The very fact that Lisa was still at work made that abundantly clear.

"Where am I meeting you?"

"At the Yard. You're cleared to drive in."

"Thanks." Kensei's tone was only mildly sarcastic. Parking in Whitehall was notoriously tricky and he didn't fancy having to hunt around for a parking space and spare change on a Friday evening. "I just got home and traffic was a bitch, so give me a few."

"Double-time it," Lisa ordered. "I need your help and we can order takeaway for dinner if it gets late."

"Lisa, it's late already," Kensei pointed out. "Just make sure there's food."

He wasn't surprised by the chuckle at the other end of the line. "I know what you like. What about Hisagi?"

"Anything edible," he replied, only belated realising that he was smiling and that Lisa would be able to hear it. "The brat hoofed down the _Ten Deadly Sins_ for breakfast without breaking a sweat. Oh, and he likes hot curries." He ended the call on Lisa's appreciative whistle, hoping that she had something tastier than cold pizza on offer by the time they made it back to Whitehall. When he turned, Shūhei was just ending his call.

"I'll be there," Shūhei said into his phone, his voice quiet.

The change in the younger man was startling. Gone were the boyish enthusiasm, the teasing smiles and heated looks, the crinkles at the corners of the eucalyptus eyes. Shūhei's stance was rigid. His shoulders formed a tense, tight line and he hid his thoughts behind the sweep of long, dark lashes. Going deeper than mere frustration, the transformation indicated a type of dread that Kensei couldn't fathom. As far as he knew, Shūhei had never backed away from anything, especially not a path he'd chosen to walk.

"Statements?"

"Statements," Shūhei confirmed. "A break would have been nice. And dinner." He reached for the duffle bag he had dropped by the door and slung it over his shoulder. "Between Kira's shit and your leak my brain's gonna get whiplash," he said, voice tight. "And that's before they throw the book at me." He straightened his shoulders with an effort and found a crooked smile. "Wonder if they let me post bail."

"What _are_ you talking about?"

"Spending the night in a cell, dumbass!" Shūhei shot back, sounding strangely petulant. "I fucked up – with honours."

"That's hardly a jailing offence."

"No? Wait till you see them drooling over the chance to score a few easy points on the vigilante who usually shows them up for the morons they are. I scared off the perp, lost a major witness, caused a public panic and forced the deployment of emergency services. If they're feeling vindictive they can add GBH and carrying a concealed weapon with intent to the rap sheet. And this time I don't have the option to pretend I'm working a case."

"You weren't there by choice," Kensei interrupted. "Are you telling me that Kira won't back you up?"

"The way that one went south he may be joining me in the clink."

"That's bullshit," Kensei said forcefully. "Lisa wants your help with that case. She said so."

"I know," Shūhei sighed. He sank back against the wall with a soft thud and stayed there as if the plaster was the only thing holding him up. "And I'll owe her for the rest of forever. Might be easier to serve time."

"You believe that?"

Shūhei shrugged and that small indication of defeat rattled Kensei's cage like little else had done in a long time. He couldn't imagine what Shūhei must have seen to lose faith like that.

"C'mere." Kensei reached for the younger man and wrapped him in a hug, sliding the duffle to the floor and ignoring Shūhei's reluctance. "We won't let that happen," he said while rubbing fingertips across the brunet's neck until Shūhei relaxed his stance a mere fraction.

"Right," Shūhei breathed and settled his forehead on Kensei's shoulder as if he was making a concession.

"Lisa's not that bad."

"She's not bad at all. But she didn't get to be where she is by pussyfooting around. I read her file. She's excellent at trading favours."

"When did you read her file? How did you even _get_ her file?"

"Over lunch," Shūhei said, blithely ignoring the second half of the question. "There had to be a reason you called her – as opposed to a dozen other equally likely people in your address book, I mean," Shūhei explained. "Unohana knew about her, too. She implied that I'd be working the case with Dr. Yadomaru."

"That should tell you something."

"It tells me I'm being sold, Kensei," Shūhei snarled, pushing Kensei away and straightening up. "Bartered, at the very least. And I hate it."

"It's not like that!" Kensei had called on Lisa because she was the most efficient person he knew for cutting through red tape and bullshit. She was sharp, admittedly, but Lisa was fair and she fought the good fight, just like Shūhei.

"Then tell me what it is like, because I can't see it. Is she on a crusade? Do I follow orders? Can I argue or do I end up in jail if I disagree with her?" Shūhei's voice echoed in the hallway and the hands on his hips were in tight fists.

"She's not on a power trip," Kensei growled. "Lisa's honest. She wants justice for Rikichi as much as you do."

All the fight went out of Shūhei in a long single breath and an angelic smile replaced the frown. His fingers uncurled, his shoulders relaxed and he straightened his arms by his sides. "Then we have us a problem, Kensei," he said softly. "After what Rikichi told me, I don't give a shit about justice. I want revenge."

xxX oOo Xxx

It was just after nine when Kensei stopped the Range Rover in front of the barrier at New Scotland Yard and wound the window down. Shūhei stirred in the passenger seat, straightening and opening his eyes. He had not spoken a word during the whole drive back into London and – despite Kensei's protests – his duffle rested between his feet in the Ranger's passenger foot well.

"If they choose to go postal on my ass I want at least a change of clothes," he'd grumbled and dodged Kensei's attempts to keep the bag at his house.

Shūhei clearly expected to spend the night in a cell and the thought made Kensei shudder. He had once tried to detain a rookie Shūhei for returning from leave late and drunk to boot. The fallout had been spectacular, ending with six men in the hospital – the brunet not included – and quite impressive property damage. Nobody was surprised when Shūhei later outscored his entire team in evasion and escape skills. Shūhei had clear issues with being physically restrained – even after he'd attended counselling and training sessions – and Kensei didn't know if those issues had eased over time or if mayhem would ensue if anyone came near him bearing handcuffs.

"You're cleared to drive in, sir," the uniformed guard behind the barrier concluded his checks, pulling Kensei from his abstraction. "An officer will escort you to your interview. Please do not leave the vehicle until he is with you."

Kensei nodded, familiar with the procedure. It had been a while, but he had been here before. "Do you have a solicitor looking after you or do you want me to warn mine that he may be needed?" he asked pointedly as he drove down the ramp into the garage.

"I thought nothing is going to happen?"

"I don't think anything will. But I'm all for putting your mind at rest before you snap."

Shūhei snorted. "Good luck with that. I usually need at least a bottle of Scotch and you think you can do it with a phone call?"

"You've clearly forgotten how awesome I am when I put my mind to it," Kensei said, a touch caustic, just as their escort materialised beside the Range Rover.

xxX oOo Xxx

The conference room on the twelfth floor smelled like a curry house. A damn good one where the chef blended his own spices until the atmosphere swam with mouth-watering aromas and drew in people who hadn't even planned on eating curry when leaving their homes. Shūhei's stomach growled at the inviting scent despite the dread sitting like a tight coil in his gut.

In Shūhei's experience, giving statements to the police involved smartass comments and defensive posturing, endless hours of mindless waiting and almost unpalatable coffee – never good food. Dr. Yadomaru liked to do things differently, if the table to the right of the conference room's door was any indication. It was covered with a white cloth and set with poppadoms and naan, rice, chutney and an unexpected array of freshly cooked curries. Plus bottles of Kingfisher and tins of Red Bull and water.

"I must have lost the friggin' keys again!"

Kensei barked a laugh when he caught the old reference. He pushed past Shūhei, who stood like a statue in the doorway and patted his head condescendingly.

"Well, Toto, I really think this isn't Kansas," he chuckled and made his way to the conference table, where Lisa and three other people were already busy eating. He claimed a seat, shrugged out of his jacket and slung it over the back of the plush chair. "Come on, brat, stop gaping at the Munchkins. We have things to do here."

Lisa snorted in amusement and Shūhei thought the look suited her. It brought out lights in her eyes and even a dimple in her cheek. Most of all, though, it made her look approachable. More like a person and less like the hardass her file said she was. She waved her fork at Shūhei and Kensei. "We had no idea how long you'd need to get here, so we've started. Help yourself to dinner. I'm told the curries get hotter the further you move from the middle of the table." She pointed at her plate. "I can vouch for the Korma. It's excellent."

Shūhei dumped his bag beside a chair and turned towards the food, picking up a plate as he went. Korma, however excellent, held little interest for him. He aimed for the dish right at the edge of the table: beef in a deep red gravy with lots of visible slices of chilli. He smelt cinnamon and cloves in the steam and happily loaded his plate. A few spoonfuls of channa dhal and a couple of poppadoms later, Shūhei was content to settle down at the table and enjoy a belated dinner, barely noticing when Kensei replaced the tin of Red Bull by his plate with a bottle of Kingfisher.

"The gentleman opposite you is SWAT commander Ikkaku Madarame," Lisa introduced. "You already know Noitra and Nell, I think?"

Shūhei managed terse nods to the men – the burly SWAT commander dressed in fatigues seemed a steady sort, but Shūhei and Noitra had history, and not the kind rehashed fondly over a beer. The statuesque woman on the other side of the table merited a wide smile.

"Hey Nell, it's been a while."

"Still fighting the good fight without any sense of self-preservation, eh?" she smiled back, albeit wryly. "You look good, Shūhei."

"And you need your eyes testing," Shūhei chuffed back. "Unless sleep deprivation looks good on me."

"Sarcasm sure doesn't," Kensei grumbled from his side.

"It's not sarcasm if I'm right."

"Quit with the cryptic and enlighten us, will you?" Ikkaku growled. He sounded grumpy, as if he'd been dragged from his normal Friday evening activities at short notice.

"Shūhei expects to spend the night in a cell," Kensei cackled, clearly delighted at a chance to tease.

"Jesus!" Noitra exclaimed. "Do we really look _that_ stupid?"

Ikkaku barked a laugh and Shūhei kept his eyes on his plate. Noitra was a pompous ass with a conveniently selective memory. Shūhei would have loved to remind him of the numerous times he'd tried to get him and Kira into trouble. Shame Kira wasn't here to enjoy the irony. The blond would have appreciated it.

"Your skills would be wasted in a cell," Lisa agreed a moment later. "Really, Hisagi – have you read your file lately?"

"He was too busy reading yours," Kensei informed her gleefully when Shūhei kept quiet and his head down.

"He... what?"

"You'd want to know whom you're dealing with, wouldn't you?" Shūhei defended himself with a shrug.

"Sure," Nell commented acidly. "But none of us would break into protected storage to do it."

"You would if you knew how," Shūhei disagreed with a tiny smile. "If you could be sure not to be caught, of course."

"I heard that Gatting was heartbroken when you quit," Lisa said softly from her side of the table, studying Shūhei as if he was a predator she'd never encountered before. "I'm starting to understand why he was so desperately hunting around for an incentive to offer you."

Shūhei leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. He didn't need to see Lisa's face to hear the wheels turning in her mind. Sitting there, surrounded by the comforting scents of curry and his thoughts safely hidden behind closed lids, Shūhei allowed himself a few moments to mourn. Four months of freedom were gone in a flash. He had managed to extricate himself from the service, had got away clean... and now he was being dragged right back into the mire because he had gone to help a friend. The relief of not having to face an investigation and possible time in jail paled in comparison.

Kensei's amber gaze was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes again. Realisation mixed with concern in that gaze and knowing that Kensei understood and cared eased the tight knot of regret in Shūhei's chest. He managed a minuscule nod; a thank you as much as an acknowledgement. And then Shūhei straightened and placed his hands on the table in front of him.

"Let's quit with the bullshit," he said to the room at large. "It's late and I'm tired. Ask what you want to know. Then tell me what you want me to do so I can go home and sleep."

xxX oOo Xxx

Without further discussion, all six settled down to work going over every detail of Shūhei and Kensei's foray into the dance club. The detectives made extensive notes, asking question after question. Shūhei described layouts, observations and impressions, with Kensei adding details when needed. Ikkaku asked more questions than the other three put together. Not a single one was about the man they hunted. Neither did he speculate about motivations or outcomes. He asked about flooring, lights, doorways and even the positioning of the columns to a level of detail that neither Shūhei nor Kensei had a chance to provide.

"Why don't you go in daylight and check it out? You could always pose as someone from the Health and Safety Executive," Shūhei sighed when Ikkaku asked for the third time about the rooms in the back of the club Shūhei hadn't been able to explore.

"I could at that, but it would make them suspicious if I asked about air vents and loft space and drains."

"How about the architectural drawings for the place? That has to be a better start."

"Need a warrant to get those. Can't wait that long."

"Don't wait, then."

Ikkaku caught on and cocked his head. "Think you can find them? Now?"

Lisa called a recess and pushed her laptop across the conference table towards Shūhei with a wry smile. "Leave me a little privacy... if you're able."

"Your dirty pictures are completely without interest to me, Doctor," Shūhei deadpanned as he pulled up a browser, followed by a command prompt. His fingers started dancing over the keys and moments later he was lost in reams of data.

Kensei watched him quietly for a moment, noting the tired slump to the brunet's shoulders and the tiny creases between his brows that meshed oddly with the intent focus and the swift dance of his fingers. Once he had resigned himself to the situation, Shūhei had focussed on the job at hand. He had answered every question, including Noitra's personal, insinuating ones, promptly and in great detail, but with as much emotion as he would expend on reciting a shopping list.

Kensei hadn't been nearly as sanguine. The lanky detective sitting across the conference table really was a first class ass, one that even his much more sensible partner couldn't keep in check at times, and Kensei had fought the repeated urge to bend the idiot's face out of shape. Not on his own account, but on Shūhei's, who somehow managed to ignore the clumsy digs and snide remarks. Kensei didn't even care that Lisa noticed his ire. He was just grateful that she shut down Noitra's idiotic lines of questioning promptly and without having to be asked.

Fortunately for Kensei's peace of mind, Noitra soon grew bored with the games, and Ikkaku Madarame was as matter-of-fact as Kensei himself. He was in mission planning mode and clearly appreciated Shūhei's help. The two sat close together bent over the screen of Lisa's laptop, talking quietly while Lisa dismissed Nell and Noitra for the evening. Kensei was glad for that small favour at least and waved to Nell as she left.

"You have no idea how close I was to hitting that oaf," he said a moment later as he joined Lisa by the coffeemaker.

"I could tell." Lisa passed him a mug. "Glad you managed to restrain yourself. Especially as he wasn't even having digs at you."

"Doesn't matter." Kensei poured milk until the mug almost overflowed. If he had to drink the stuff to stay awake, at least he could make it somewhat palatable.

"I don't suppose it does," Lisa agreed. "Nell is trying to straighten him out."

"She's not having much luck."

"Give her time."

"Keep him out of my hair, then," Kensei growled. "I really ... really hate men like that. It wouldn't even occur to him to do what Shūhei does, but he has the gall to taunt and judge and..."

"Kensei."

He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes until he got his temper under control. It took some doing. "Sorry," he said quietly as he set the mug down.

"He really got to you, didn't he?"

Kensei nodded once, not caring whom Lisa was referring to. Her words were true for either man. Noitra's comments had been aimed at Shūhei, but Kensei was the one who'd felt the sting. The detective would never understand what it took to go undercover, how much courage a man needed to use himself as bait. Kensei wished he could ram that knowledge down Noitra's throat.

"Tell me about the pimp," he said instead. "We have a profile yet?"

"Not even ID."

"He doesn't have form?"

Lisa shook her head and grabbed a clean mug from the table. "Forensics are really struggling with that beer bottle."

"Why?"

"The bottle was dewy when the pimp first picked it up. The prints are layered and smudged. Wet glass is one of the worst surfaces to lift prints from... did you know?"

"I had no idea," Kensei grumbled. "Next time I'll offer six beers, a packet of peanuts and a towel."

Lisa laughed and patted his shoulder. "Glum doesn't suit you, Kensei."

Kensei shot a look across the room to where Shūhei and Ikkaku were still huddled over Lisa's laptop. The two looked cosy, intent on their work, and Kensei bit back a sigh. "Glum's all you get tonight," he said, feeling decidedly cranky. "Really, what have I ever done to deserve getting cock-blocked by you?"

"Um... let's see... left me?"

"How comes I remember that the other way around?"

Lisa smiled a little. She leaned her back against the counter next to the coffeemaker, watching it gurgle and hiss as it poured hot black coffee into her mug. "Probably because it's true," she quipped. "Let a girl repent in peace."

"By ruining my weekend?"

"If you call in the wind, be prepared to reap storm," she smirked as if he needed reminding. "And I did cut you a lot of slack."

Kensei had to concede that point. She could have ordered them to the nearest police station last night to make their statements there and then. Instead, Lisa had suggested he'd take Shūhei home before most of her team had even arrived. The option was a win for them both. Shūhei had a little time to recover and Lisa had a chance to familiarise herself with the case before she started asking questions.

"You're right," he said, voice tired and watched as Ikkaku rose and stretched before stacking his notes in a careful pile, ready to call it a night.

xxX oOo Xxx

"Wish I had someone like you on my team," the bald man said sincerely, looking down to where Shūhei lounged in his chair. "It would make planning so much easier."

Shūhei had enjoyed the brief trawl for data. It was different from the work he did every day, and Ikkaku's requirements had been very precise. Hacking was sheer fun when he knew exactly what he was after. "Give me a yell if you need a hand," Shūhei offered, ignoring Kensei's groan from across the conference room. "I'll be happy to help out if I have the time." Then he added a smirk. "Provided you take the heat, of course."

Ikkaku smirked right back. "We're SWAT," he said simply. "Taking heat's what we do."

"I'll wait for your call then."

"You do that."

They swapped mobile numbers and Shūhei watched Ikkaku leave; seeing calls for extracurricular activities in his future and not minding very much at all. The sort of information the SWAT commander needed was easily, and in many cases totally legally, obtained. He had no issues helping out, not when he knew how much of a difference an accurate map could make to the success of a mission.

"You really can't leave well enough alone, can you?" Kensei's asked in a resigned tone and Shūhei shrugged.

"He shouldn't even have to ask for intel," he responded softly, looking at the closed door. "Fucking bureaucrats."

"You can't help everyone."

"I can help those who ask." Shūhei cleared history and any traces of his activity from Lisa's laptop, taking his time and making sure he got every tiny footprint. He didn't feel the need to offer even more ammunition to a woman who was shortly going to own his ass.

The thought annoyed him, but he pushed it aside. His skills made him a valuable commodity. He had accepted that a long time ago. It was his own fault that he'd forgotten that truth in a brief bid for freedom. The sooner he resigned himself to the cage again, the safer it would be for all concerned.

An almighty yawn overtook him and he stood, trying to shake off the fatigue. "Can I ask a question?" he queried, turning towards Lisa.

"Shoot."

"The two boys Kensei rescued from the club – how are they?"

Not knowing what had happened to the boys had bugged him all day, but he'd carefully kept from snooping. Though his first day at Kuchiki Industries had been busy, he could have found time and opportunity if he'd really put his mind to it. Lisa seemed to realise that, too.

"Still in hospital," she replied softly. "They weren't as far gone as Rikichi, but he'd started to hook them on blow besides the ... other damage. Kira is watching over them, but they're a ways from talking to anyone."

That explained why Shūhei had had to put up with Noitra. He didn't mind Nell. The woman had a brain and knew how to use it, but Shūhei had worried about Kira's absence. It was unlike the blond to start something and not see it through to the end.

"What's on your mind?"

The question drew him from his thoughts in surprise and he rubbed a hand across his face. He really needed to sleep if he started zoning out in the middle of a conversation. A mug of steaming hot coffee slid into his field of vision and he accepted it with a rueful chuckle.

"Should have bought Kenco shares years ago," he muttered as he took a sip, grateful that it was just the three of them left. "Whatever you do, don't separate the two boys," he continued, hoping Lisa realised how seriously he meant his words. "Not even for treatments or baths or stuff. They are each other's strength." And comfort and nightmare guard, but he didn't feel the need to point that out. Better that his mind didn't go there.

"Isane is in charge of the boys," Lisa replied. "You've met, haven't you?"

Shūhei nodded. "She's good. Really knows what she's doing, even though..."

"What?"

"She's great with the younger children, especially the girls," Shūhei answered. "These two boys, though... I'm not sure they'll respond that easily."

"Right now, they're drugged and out of it. Let's wait and see." Lisa's voice was comforting and Shūhei relaxed. The endless week was finally coming to a close. And all he wanted now was a chance to sleep.

They left the Yard and Shūhei was grateful for the quiet time while Kensei drove through a city on the cusp of waking. His thoughts moved sluggishly as if the coffee he had drunk to stay awake was sloshing around his brain instead of his stomach. There was much to ponder and he needed to get a grip on the details if he was to contribute anything useful to the investigation.

Noitra was an annoyance, and Shūhei would have preferred Kira in his place. Having Kensei beside him helped, as did the fact that Noitra's threats were without substance. On the plus side, it had been nice to see Nell again and he looked forward to working with her. And Ikkaku's attitude was just plain refreshing.

Shūhei didn't realise he'd nodded off until Kensei pulled the Range Rover into his driveway and called Shūhei's name to wake him. They looked at each other in the pale grey light, tired and a little unsure and Shūhei felt a curl of anticipation in his gut as the Yard, the investigation and even his annoyance faded into the background.

The scuff of their feet on the gravel of the drive as they made their way into the house seemed to echo in the early morning silence. Keys jangled softly as Kensei closed the front door, locking them in and the world out. Shūhei's breath washed out in a long sigh, and relief hit him so hard his knees went weak.

"You wanna share or shall I get the spare bed ready for you?"

Kensei's voice sounded muffled as he bent to take his shoes off. Shūhei waited until he straightened, then reached and hooked a finger through a loop on Kensei's belt and pulled him closer until their chests almost touched. "You wanted me to spend the weekend so I could check out your spare bedroom?" he teased, head tilted to one side to appreciate Kensei's expression. "That's one hell of a pickup line."

"Jackass," Kensei snarled, but made no move to get away. He watched Shūhei closely, brows drawn together in something that looked like concern and maybe a little trepidation. "You need to sleep."

"So have you started to snore or do you hog the covers?"

"Neither."

"Then I don't see what's the problem." In Shūhei's memories, a tired Kensei was invariably a cranky one. He'd never seen the man so adorably unsure. And it really wasn't as if they'd never shared a bed or floor before, even if it had been almost ten years ago. He smiled widely and then leaned close to speak in Kensei's ear. "I promise faithfully that I won't bite. Or try to jump you."

xxX TBC Xxx

**And another note:** the title for this chapter comes from an unreferenced quote I found in an old notebook of mine. It reads "the only difference between a halo and a noose is its position." Given Shuu's crusade and its repercussions, I found it oddly fitting. If anyone knows where the quote is from, I'd be grateful if you could let me know.


	12. Shutdown

**Shutdown**

Between shoppers, sightseers and anyone actually living there, Richmond was a busy place. Especially on Saturdays, when traffic wound in an endless snarl from the Thames to the Park and from Clapham to Twickenham. Very little of all that activity could be heard in Kensei's bedroom, and Shūhei was fine with that. He had been awake for a while now and felt surprisingly rested, but he was far too comfortable to move.

He hadn't minded at all, when he woke, to find himself draped over his bed partner as if Kensei were an extra pillow. And he saw no reason now to change his position. His nose was buried in Kensei's neck, his arm clasped Kensei's waist and their legs tangled in ways Shūhei found rather suggestive. He rested quietly, breathing as softly and evenly as he knew how and enjoyed the moment.

There was a hint of roughness to Kensei's jaw and despite the previous night's shower, Kensei's skin held a trace of scent that Shūhei found irresistible. If asked to define it he'd call it spicy, even though that didn't quite do it justice. It was a dark, rich scent, more alluring than cinnamon and chilli spiced chocolate. Shūhei preferred clean, citrussy notes for everyday wear, but his stomach muscles clenched every time he caught a hint of that dark spice. He turned his head just slightly and nuzzled his way deeper into the silver hair, momentarily content to lie in bed and dream.

He was so lost in quiet bliss that he disregarded the warning signs: the soft slide of a foot along his calf, the tensing of the muscles in Kensei's abdomen, and the hand that suddenly cupped the back of his head. So when he found himself flipped over and pinned to the bed with Kensei's face above his own, he could do little more than gape.

"You sure have the patience of a saint," Kensei huffed. "How long were you going to pretend that you were asleep?"

"I wasn't pretending," Shūhei protested. "Just enjoying myself." He stretched, testing Kensei's hold. It was firm, but not really restrictive. He could get away if he needed to. That realisation soothed the small spike of panic in his chest, turned it into a well of heat. A smirk curled the corners of his mouth and he stretched again, more deliberately this time, brushing skin against skin. "I couldn't make a move, anyway," he announced on the heels of Kensei's soft gasp at the contact. "I promised I wouldn't jump you."

"See, I would never promise something as stupid as that," Kensei rumbled before he leaned to brush their lips together.

"Good for you," Shūhei whispered back and then concentrated on tracing Kensei's lips with the tip of his tongue, until Kensei pressed in more firmly.

Their kiss was like the entree to an exquisite meal: sweet, promising and with just enough fire to whet the appetite. And Shūhei soon wanted more. He buried one hand in Kensei's hair, and slid the other across Kensei's broad back feeling the muscles shift under warm skin as Kensei moved. Teeth clashed and tongues tangled as both grew more serious and Shūhei didn't give a damn when a deep moan escaped his throat. As far as he was concerned, Kensei deserved it. He'd managed to turn him on to an almost painful degree in no time flat. With barely more than a kiss.

Shūhei arched up to bring their bodies firmly together and felt Kensei's arousal press into his hip. Glad to know this was a two-way street, he shifted and pushed up, rolling them over, thrilled to hear Kensei growl at the sudden separation of their mouths. His teeth grazed a trail along Kensei's jaw line and down his neck.

"Dammit, Shuu!"

Kensei gasped and squirmed, but didn't try to get away from Shūhei's ministrations. His hands found skin, slipped to Shūhei's ass and pulled him down. Hard. Heat flared through him and Shūhei retaliated by nipping on Kensei's collarbone, before moving his attentions to the hollow of Kensei's throat. Kensei's fingers painted trails of fire on his skin and every time he caught a whiff of that dark, spicy scent, something like an electric shock spiked through him.

He raised his head and went for Kensei's lips again, adding teeth and fire and clear intention. The kiss turned messy, Kensei's hand tangled in his hair and Shūhei was on the verge of losing his train of thought when Nickelback's _All the Right Reasons_ interrupted their heated exchanged.

Shūhei froze. Then he swore. Then he bent over the side of the bed to fish his phone from the pocket of his jeans, swearing some more when he came up empty on the first couple tries. Finally, he flipped the phone open and answered.

"Hisagi."

"Shūhei, are you ok? You sound strange."

_No shit._ If Shūhei sounded even half as murderous as he felt at the untimely interruption, Kira would have dropped dead. "You woke me up."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Yeah, whatever." Shūhei listened to Kira's breathing. "Was there something you wanted?"

"Sorry," the blond repeated. "We need your help. Daniel and Dominic are awake, but they're totally unresponsive. They're just sitting huddled together, not looking at anything. Isane was hoping that you might be able to..."

"Where are they?" Shūhei knew he sounded more like a robot than a human being at that moment. He didn't care. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed through his nose, willing the sudden nausea to go take a running jump.

"St. Thomas's Hospital," Kira replied, cautious now and undoubtedly realising which door to hell he'd just cracked open. "I'll text you the details and meet you there?"

"Yeah, ok." The connection cut off and Shūhei sat frozen for a moment, staring at nothing. "I must have done something truly horrendous in my previous life to deserve _that_," Shūhei growled finally and threw his phone onto the nearest chair before he hunched over and rested his forehead on his knees.

Kira's call had done a fine job ruining the mood.

Shūhei's heart still beat up a storm. He could still taste Kensei on his lips, feel the traces of fire calloused fingers had left on his skin, but deep inside he felt like ice. He remembered fear and recalled fury and combined they burned all other thoughts from his mind.

"C'mere." Kensei's arm snaked around his shoulders; pulled him up and against a warm chest, wrapped him in a hug. "Guy's got crap timing, but we'll get it sorted out." Kensei's voice rumbled against Shūhei's ear. "Will they need to stick to hospital food, or can we bring cake?"

"Cake?" Shūhei huffed a confused laugh. "Does it really bother you so little? Kira's interruption, I mean."

"I know what you meant, brat. And it bothers me a lot." The arms around Shūhei tightened. "Seeing what it did to you bothers me a lot more, though. Do you want to talk about any of it?"

"No. Hell no!"

"Well, then. Let's get this done. Cold showers, cake and then we'll turn up like Father Christmas."

Deeds followed words and in no time at all Shūhei found himself shoved under a torrent of chilly water. He yanked Kensei into the shower with him and the warm body at his back made the cold water almost bearable. By the time they stepped out of the shower, Shūhei had found ground again.

"Now, cake?" he asked as he finished buttoning his jeans and started to rummage in his duffel for his favourite deep green Henley. Given their plans for the afternoon, he needed all the comfort he could devise. And the thing looked good on him.

xxX oOo Xxx

"Hey, look at you – you're awake," Shūhei smiled as he stepped past two uniformed police officers and into Daniel and Dominic's hospital room. "And you know what? We brought cake."

The room wasn't large. Just big enough for two beds, a small coffee table and four moderately comfortable chairs, but it did have an attached bathroom and a great view over Big Ben and the Thames. Not that that seemed to matter to Daniel and Dominic. The two boys huddled close together on the bed furthest from the door, their arms around each other and their eyes on the bed sheets. Kira had called the boys unresponsive, but Shūhei's instincts told him otherwise.

Daniel and Dominic were well aware of their surroundings. Both kept their eyes down, the better to watch the room and everyone in it from their peripheral vision. And both were strung so tightly, a breath might snap their control.

"_You_ brought cake? That's rich, brat," Kensei's voice teased as he placed two large carrier bags on the low coffee table in front of the window. "You wouldn't have thought of bringing sandwiches, let alone sweet-talk Richmond's best baker out of some of her specials."

Kensei was right, of course. Left to his own devices, Shūhei would have grabbed a mug of coffee on the run to the hospital and wouldn't have remembered food until his stomach reminded him. Repeatedly.

He shot Kensei a grin and shrugged a shoulder. "Same difference," he said lightly and reached for a bag. "Look, we've got Richmond Maids of Honour, custard tarts, choux buns, cream horns and... whatever are these things?" He held up a bag until Kensei took it from him and looked.

"Pig's Ears."

"That's gross," Shūhei commented, delighted to see Dominic's lips move as he silently repeated the word pig's ears. "What do pig's ears have to do with cake? Shouldn't they be sausage or something?"

"You're a kitchen retard, Shūhei," Kensei picked up the thread and ran with it. "You haven't got the first clue what's tasty." He turned towards the bed and shook the bag. "What's it gonna be, boys? I suggest you decide quickly, or the hungry hordes," he threw a very pointed look at Shūhei and Kira, "will polish off the lot before you know it."

"Well, I haven't had breakfast yet," Shūhei said after a moment of silence. He saw Daniel give a tiny shake of his head and saw Dominic hug his friend tighter, giving him a little shake as he did so. The silent argument was riveting, but he couldn't let on that he'd seen it. "Or lunch. Did you get enough so I can have one of each?" he asked with half an eye on Kensei. "Then I won't need dinner."

"I know you for a glutton," Kensei sighed and Shūhei laughed.

"That's a yes, then. Bring it!"

"Is it true?" Dominic's voice was so quiet that Shūhei wouldn't have heard it if he hadn't been watching and waiting for it. He half turned and raised an eyebrow.

"Is what true?"

"That Rikichi is dead."

For one long, crazy moment, Shūhei wanted to kill someone. Kira, Isane, the fuckwit who hadn't kept his trap shut...he really didn't care. The urge was so strong he almost reached for the knife in his boot. Then he caught Dominic's gaze and the rage disappeared under a flood of regrets.

"Yes, it's true," he said, turning to face the two boys. "But not the way you think. You know that Rikichi was badly hurt?"

He waited patiently while the two boys locked eyes, communicating as silently as only prisoners know how. Finally, Dominic looked back up at him.

"Yes."

"He was drugged. He had internal injuries. And you'll probably know that he'd been caned that day."

From his peripheral vision, Shūhei saw Isane take a step forward, her face perturbed. Shūhei didn't pay her any heed. He knew that his words sounded brutal, but Dominic and Daniel had been lied to long enough. They deserved to know the truth.

"When I met him at the club, his body had started to go into shock," he continued, relieved when he saw Kensei step into Isane's path. "I offered to get him out and he agreed."

"Then why is he dead?" It was the first time Daniel had spoken and Shūhei was relieved to hear rage amongst the fear and pain.

"One of the bouncers came after us. Rikichi took a knife in the shoulder for me." Shūhei made sure he had both boys' full attention. "He saved my life."

It hurt to watch the two boys with their arms around each other, the tight embrace growing more desperate by the moment. Shūhei knew he had to let them work it out for themselves, but it was hard. Harder this time, because of Rikichi's sacrifice and his failure.

"He said that he would kill anyone who broke the rules. He'll come after us."

"Of course not."

"Yes, he will." Shūhei's voice cut across Isane's assurances. He took the last few steps and dropped to one knee in front of the boys, careful to leave a distance. "He thinks that you are his property, to do with as he chooses. Of course he wants you back."

Blue and brown eyes widened in fear. Daniel's arm tightened around Dominic's waist and the dark-haired boy held tight to his blond friend's hand.

"He's also shit scared of you two right now," Shūhei continued, his calm voice at odds with the tightness in his chest that made it difficult to breathe. "What you know can put him in jail forever and a day– and he's well aware of that. I admired Rikichi for what he tried to do. I was going to help him. I am sorry I screwed up. I'm sorry I could not save his life."

Shūhei didn't bow his head however much he wished he'd somewhere to hide. He let the two boys see his anger and his anguish, laid himself open as he rarely did in the hope to make them believe him.

"Will you be there?"

It was Daniel asking the question and Shūhei had a first inkling of the dynamic between the two. Dominic, bolder and less patient; Daniel, a little older and more tentative.

"If you need me, I'll be here," Shūhei promised. "This part of your life is over. You will never have to go back. But you need to make an effort to get well again. You owe that to yourselves."

"What if he sends someone for us?"

Shūhei settled himself cross-legged in front of the bed. "Starting over isn't easy. While he's free, you're both in danger. So your first priority is to get well. Our first priority is to catch him and put him away. After that, you'll have a chance at a new life."

"What if he comes before we're well?"

"You'll never be alone until he's behind bars," Shūhei said with quiet authority, glad when Isane stepped up beside him and nodded to confirm his words. "While you're here, there'll be a police guard outside your door at all times."

"Really?"

Shūhei half-turned his head and Kensei took the hint. He opened the door and one of the uniformed officers came in and introduced himself.

"When you're ready to leave here, Isane and her colleagues will take you to a safe place." Shūhei continued. "When we've caught him, you may be asked to help us put him away, but nobody will force you to do anything. We have enough on the guy to bury him under the jail. Rikichi's made sure of that."

"And now I want cake." Shūhei flipped to his feet and turned towards Kensei, deliberately ending the conversation and giving the two boys time to process the reams of information he'd just flooded them with.

Kensei was busy laying out cakes on the small table and Shūhei stepped up beside him. Nightmares and memories crowded so close his vision started to tunnel. And he was so tightly wound he feared he might throw up if he tried to eat anything. But he was determined to keep it together while he was in the room. He owed the boys at least that much.

"Are you ok?"

Caught physically between Kira on his right and Kensei on his left, the soft query caught him off-guard. As did the looks either man directed at him. Irritation bubbled swiftly. He had no idea what he looked like, though he did his best to keep his expression bland. But really, how did they think he'd feel?

"Been better, but I'll live," he muttered, turned his back to the room and fixed his eyes on the view. The peace and contentment of the early afternoon had fled, but peace and contentment had been rare visitors in his life to begin with. No wonder their sticking qualities were hazy at best. He focussed on the little things to ground himself, counted pedestrians crossing Westminster Bridge, watched the reflections of clouds on the grey waters of the Thames and let himself be cheered by hearing Dominic's voice in answer to questions from Isane and by the fact that Kira and Kensei actually seemed to be having a conversation of sorts. And when the nurse came in to tell them that visiting hours were over, and Kira asked them to stop in at the Yard and see Lisa before they headed home, his stoic facade was almost back in place.


End file.
